


you carried the sun in your hand for me

by rubberglue



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-24 12:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 43,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubberglue/pseuds/rubberglue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Camlann, Guinevere, ruling alone for the first time, finds herself having to deal with a council who mistrusts her and neighbouring kingdoms who think that she's a pushover without Arthur. When Arthur turns up alive in a small village, Gwen's hopes are raised and she dreams of things going back to the way they were, but nothing is easy. There's conflict brewing, higher powers angry and the growing awareness that without his memories, Arthur may not be the Arthur she married.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

[ __ ](../942372)

_Prologue_

Her eyes swept over the busy courtyard, her hand playing with the ring that now hung around her neck, wondering with a touch of bitterness how the world seemed to be carrying on as usual, as if it hadn’t been just a week since Arthur died and killed a part of her.

“My lady?”

Blinking back the hot tears that had gathered at the edge of her eyes, Gwen plastered a smile on her face and turned to her door. “Sir Percival.”

“There’s news from the borders.”

Gwen sighed, pushing down the dread that churned in her stomach. “More bad news?”

He dipped his head. “I’m afraid so. Skirmishes but there’s fear that this might lead to more.”  
“That’s what the council thinks. What do you think?”

That moment of hesitation was not a good sign. “I agree with the council. Some of the kingdoms are testing your will. Some are unhappy that you’ve made magic legal.”

Just as she suspected as well. “Thank you. If you’ll put the reports on my table, I’ll look at them later.”

“Gwen,” Percival put a hand on her shoulder, his touch strong and calm. “To Leon and me, you are more than just Queen. You are our friend. Don’t forget that.” With those words, he returned her smile and left her room.

The loneliness that had been temporarily lifted by Percy’s presence settled in her heart once more.

+

 

_Two months later_

Some days, she liked to pretend that Arthur was simply out on an extended quest - he certainly went off on many of them during the time they were married - and one day she would hear the familiar telltale horns and clatter of hooves on the cobblestones and he would return, battered, tired, snapping at Merlin but he would return. Other days, like today, that fantasy was harder to cling to, when the council insisted on second guessing every decision she made and Merlin’s constant sullenness and uncooperativeness only made council meetings that much harder.

“He’s in his chambers, my lady.” Leon said quietly from behind. She forced a smile on her face, nodding her thanks at a worried-looking Leon. “He seems quite moody,” Leon continued softly.

“Isn’t he always? Thank you, Leon.” This time her smile was more genuine and she touched his shoulder in appreciation as she left her room. The closer she got to the chambers she’d put Merlin in after his return, the more her stomach churned. Outside the heavy wood door, she hesitated, balancing the tray on one hand, before placing her palm against the door. But she didn't push.

“I know you’re there.”

He looked tiny silhouetted against the window of which he stared out, shoulders hunched as if he carried the world’s burdens on them. “Gwen,” he said, not even bothering to turn around. “I’m not hungry.”

“Surely even people with magic have to eat,” she said lightly as she placed the tray on the table. “It’s your favourite stew.”

Finally he turned. Gwen was no longer surprised by the pain in his eyes or the lines on his face. “Thank you. I’ll eat it later.”

She let the lie pass, history telling her that he was unlikely to eat. There were more pressing matters to attend to. When she settled herself on one of the plush armchairs in the room, he raised his eyebrows. Her tone firm - the same one she used in the throne room, she requested Merlin sit.

“What is it?” he asked, almost sullenly, as he sank into a hard chair at the table.

“How are you?”

He shrugged, suddenly finding the food on his plate very interesting.

Deciding the gentle approach wasn’t working, she sighed and went straight to the point. “Merlin, you can’t keep storming out of council meetings, especially when -”

“- especially when they act as if there’s something wrong with me? Magic is legal now and they still act as if it’s evil.”

“You can’t blame them Merlin. We’ve only just made magic legal after so many years. It’s natural they are wary -”

He jumped up from the chair. “Stop defending them. I thought you were on my side. Arthur would have -”

“Don’t,” she snapped coldly. Even hearing his name sent a sharp pain through her heart. “Don’t bring Arthur into this.” She knew far too well, even if she refused to think about it too much, that had Arthur been around, things would be different - better. She definitely didn't need Merlin reminding her.

Merlin dragged a hand across his face and slumped back into the chair. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just that I watched him die because of his love for Camelot -” His voice trailed off as Gwen turned away, biting her lips.

“At least you were there for his last hours.”

He seemed startled at those words. “Gwen -”

“You got to say goodbye, you got to lay him to rest. I didn’t even know he passed till three days later, when you sent a message with Percival. You were my best friend and you couldn’t even tell me my husband was dead.” She blinked furiously but the tears still managed to leak. Dashing them away, she sucked in a breath, trying to calm herself. “Eat your dinner, Merlin.”

As she walked past Merlin on her way out of the room, he took her hand, stopping her. “I’m so sorry Gwen.”

She stilled but refused to look at him. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are.” He dropped her hand. “I came back to Camelot for you.”

“For me?” she asked incredulously. “You have barely spoken to me since you’ve been back, wallowing in your pain. I’ve been hurting too. I lost my husband. And all that’s happened since you’ve returned is me worrying about you, looking after you. Have you even spared a thought about me?”

Finally, she looked into his face. Shock coloured his features and Gwen felt the strangest urge to laugh. All the pain she'd been going through and Merlin had no clue. Bitterness welled in her and she tore her gaze from his face.

“I didn’t -” he choked, guilt evident in his voice, “I was so caught up with my grief and you always looked so calm -”

“Every day I wake up and Arthur isn’t next to me, I feel like I’m slowly dying inside. I -” She swayed slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the exhaustion of a long day. Merlin took a step towards her and she stumbled backwards.

“Are you alright?”

She rubbed her temples and closed her eyes. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Come, I’ll walk you back to your room.”

Neither said anything during the walk, the tension thick between them. At her door, Merlin lingered as if he wanted to continue their conversation but Gwen was far too tired to humour him, the day and the conversation with Merlin had drained all energy from her. Just as she turned away, he said softly, “I’m sorry. I’ll do better, as a friend.”

“Fine,” she replied with a sigh. Then she closed the door gently in his face.

Leaning against her closed door, she sighed. The stress of ruling alone was affecting her physically - fatigue had become a permanent guest in her life, and nausea, a frequent visitor. Gaius plied her with medicinal herbs and potions, urging her to take it easy, but after throwing up what seemed to be all the contents of her stomach, she’d stopped taking them.

Her fingers reached for her ring, its cool metal a contrast against her warm skin. She closed her eyes and for a moment imagined Arthur was merely on an extended quest and that he would be home soon to share these burdens with her.

+

As always, discussions circled back to Gwen’s decision to allow magic in Camelot. The fact that more and more kingdoms were feuding with each other or the fact that there were a burgeoning number of refugees from these towns came second to the council’s growing discomfort with Gwen as a ruler and her decision to make magic legal.

“Are we agreed to housing the refugees within the castle walls?” Gwen pushed.

A few heads nodded, amongst those, the knights. “Good. Breton, assist Sir Leon with moving the refugees. Inform the kitchens to provide them with some bread for sustenance. I’ve already assigned more help in the kitchens.”

“Can we talk about magic now?” Hector asked.

Finally, Gwen looked at Hector, carefully hiding her distaste for him behind a mask of politeness. “We have discussed Merlin’s recommendations already.”

“I’m still not convinced that they are enough to manage the magical population.”

“Lord Hector, we have spent the last two weeks working on the new laws to deal with magic. It’s time we move on.”

Hector scowled at her. “Some kingdoms are still unhappy with your decision.”

“I realise that but it’s time we stopped acting as if magic is evil. As for the kingdoms which are unhappy, we will deal with them. I'm sure in time, they will realise that magic isn't inherently evil.”

Waving his hand rudely in dismissal, Hector sniffed. “They don’t trust you. They think that you are far too influenced by that warlock.”

Sir Lief immediately retorted, “That warlock saved our kingdom!”

“How do we know Merlin can be trusted? What if -”

“Merlin was the King’s closest friend -”

“- will be corrupted by magic in the end like -”

A dull ache slowly built in her head as the voices rose around her. Her fingers massaged her temple, a move that was sadly becoming far too familiar, before she firmly told them to stop. The councillors stopped talking, except Hector who, halfway through his rant about Gwen being a commoner who couldn’t understand the complex politics of the land, slammed his hand down on the table, causing Gwen to jump.

“There's no need for that.” Percival's low voice cut through Hector's rant. Immediately, Hector sat back down on his chair, disapproval clear as day on his face.

“This meeting is over,” Gwen said coldly. With a murmur of greetings, the council filed past her. She continued, “Lord Hector, please stay for a while.”

He looked like he was about to refuse when Percival cleared his throat. With a quick glance at the knight, Hector reluctantly took his seat again.

“Whether you like it or not,” Gwen said after all the rest of the council left, “I am Queen. Arthur didn’t leave the royal signet with you or anyone else. He left it with me.”

“But -”

Gwen raised a hand. “No. The knights have no problems with me but you and your band of nobles obviously do.”

“The knights come from the same commoner background as you,” Hector sniffed, a defiant tilt to his head.

“And? Surely you’re not suggesting that being a commoner, I’m somehow less capable of thinking and making decisions. Arthur didn’t think so.” She wanted to hit something but instead curled her hands into fists, her nails digging into the flesh of her palm.

“Arthur fancied himself in love -”

“I wouldn't finish that sentence," she snapped, her control over her temper hanging by a thread.

Hector raised a hand in half-apology. “Look at all the disputes happening between the various kingdoms. Arthur died to bring peace to Albion. This isn’t peace. And the disputes are happening because the kingdoms believe that Camelot is weakened by Arthur’s death.”

The truth in every word he said jabbed at her.

“They will soon learn otherwise,” Gwen said with more confidence than she felt.

Maybe it was a trick of the light but Gwen thought Hector's face softened. “My lady, I believe you care about Camelot and Arthur certainly thought the world of you. But I don’t believe you alone are able to bring peace to these lands.”

“Are you suggesting I relinquish the throne?”

He stared at her, then said slowly, “Lord Gregory is a very capable man.”

“If Arthur wanted Gregory on the throne, he would have given him the royal signet,” Gwen said. “If you really care for Camelot and Albion as you claim to do, then I suggest you work with me to deal with all these problems and build the lasting peace Arthur wanted.”

“Of course, your majesty,” Hector replied, but having dealt with Hector over the past two months, Gwen knew better than to trust him. “I do hope we can work together.”

Still, she nodded. “I hope so too.” She swept out of the room, followed closely by Percival, leaving Hector alone.

+

The headache that had started in the council room had only grown worse by the time she got to her room. Percival hovered closer than usual, and she forced a smile up at him at her door.

“Things will work out,” he said as he opened the door for her. “I’ll be with the knights, if you need me. Sir Brom will be outside.”

It was only midday and she was already feeling the exhaustion in her bones. Hector’s words echoed in her head, adding to her insecurities. What was she doing? It was one thing to rule with Arthur. It was a completely different story ruling alone.

Her fingers played with her wedding ring and the tears welled in her eyes again. This time she let them fall, tired of being the strong one. She let herself remember Arthur - his embrace of life, his determination to be a better King than his father, his insecurities, his tenderness with her, his love for Camelot, his knights and her, and she let herself imagine what it would be like if he was still around. His hands would be on her shoulder, his warm breath caressing the back of her neck, telling her that everything would work out. Or he would be at his table, grumbling under his breath about all the paperwork he had to do, moaning about how he would much rather be outside training with his knights before pulling her into his lap and kissing her.

Pain throbbed in her and she tried to push the images out of her mind. Arthur had promised he would never leave her and foolishly, she had believed him.

Gwen rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hands. She had planned to take a walk around the lower town to see if the repairs she’d ordered were going well. At the same time, there were several documents that required her attention. With a barely concealed sigh, she sat at her table and pulled out the sheath of papers Leon had dropped off in the morning. Requests for more medical supplies to one of the towns affected by the battle at Camlann - she dropped it in the important pile. Applications to join the Camelot knights - she placed them with some impatience into the pile for Leon. Quickly, she dealt with most of the paperwork, the monotony calming her emotions. She grabbed another.

_Suggestions for a momument for King Arthur_

Written in neat script, the words screamed out at her. Shaken, she glanced at the pile that held all sorts of requests and ideas to honour Arthur's death, a pile she had let grow over the past few months.

He's not coming back, she told herself firmly, and it was time she faced up to that. But after a moment's hesitation, she still dropped the document, unread, onto the pile. Maybe one day she would be strong enough to go through them.

The knock that interrupted her thoughts was a blessing.

“It’s Merlin, my lady,” said Sir Brom from outside. “Will you see him?”

For a brief moment, her spirits lifted, before she remembered their last encounter. “Send him in.”

“Gaius said you didn’t look too well. He wanted me to give you this.” Merlin stepped into her room and handed her a small vial. “It is supposed to calm your nerves.”

“My nerves are fine. Or they will be if the kingdoms in Albion stopped playing their power games.”

“It’s the way of the land,” he said lightly.

Gwen said nothing but gave him a pointed look, before turning her back on him and slipping the vial next to the row of vials she’d been collecting from Gaius.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said the last time we spoke and you’re right. About everything.” Merlin took a step further into her room.

“Good,” she said. “Look, Merlin. I have -”

“I am sorry. I know I keep saying it but this time, I mean it. The past months, I was so caught up with my so-called destiny, with needing Arthur to fulfil his destiny that -”

“- that we drifted apart.”

He nodded. “Tell me it’s not too late to save our friendship.”

Whatever anger or resentment she held against Merlin dissipated at the look on his face. Her hand took his. “Of course not. I could really do with a friend right now.”  
Immediately, Merlin pulled her into a hug and she sank, gratefully, into his arms. “I’m sorry, Gwen,” he whispered.

Gwen never realised how much she needed this until her face was pressed into his shoulder and his hand rubbed soothingly up and down her back. The tension that had been coiled in her since the talk with Hector eased slightly and she relaxed in Merlin's arms, achingly aware of how much she missed the support and safety he once represented to her. Finally, she pulled back and regarded Merlin quietly. Then she asked the question that had been plaguing her ever since Merlin returned. “Ever since you returned, you keep talking about Arthur’s destiny, and about how it was your duty to ensure he fulfilled it. What was his destiny?”

He smiled wryly. “I wish I knew for sure. I was told he was going to unite Albion and become a great King. As it turned out,” Merlin let out a bitter laugh, “either the Old Religion was wrong or Arthur failed to fulfil his destiny. And if he failed -”

“It’s not your fault,” Gwen said immediately, wanting to erase the look of despair on his face.

It eased slightly as he squeezed her hand. “Gwen, you don’t know that at all, but thank you for believing in me.”

“Maybe it’s up to us to ensure that Arthur’s destiny is fulfilled,” said Gwen. “He started building peace between the kingdoms. We can finish it.”

“Establishing peace in Albion isn’t going to be easy.”

“No, but Camelot has friends,” she said, “and it has you, most powerful warlock in history.”

Merlin smiled and shook his head. “You sound like you have a plan.”

“I don’t. But I wish I did. Some amazing, spectacular plan that would miraculously achieve the peace in Albion that Arthur wanted. And then maybe I can move on.”

“Maybe then we both can move on. Now," Merlin said in a brighter tone, "Percival says that a walk in the lower town is next on your schedule. Fancy some company?”

She reached out her arm. “I’ll be delighted.”

+

“Show me that again,” Gwen said.

Merlin chuckled, then turned the candle flame into butterflies. Smiling, Gwen leaned back into her pillows and sighed, trying to ignore the throbbing behind her eyes. Gaius had said it was the combination of stress and working too hard and ordered her bed rest. Despite the urging of Leon and Merlin, she had refused initially. Resting meant free time and free time meant time to think about all she had lost - Arthur, Elyan, Gwaine, her father - and that was something she didn’t want to do. But when, on her way to the council room, she threw up her breakfast, everyone was insistent she rest and refused to listen to her. In the end it was easier for her to give in.

“How does it feel to have so much power in you?”  
“It’s scary at times but other times, when I’m able to use the power to help, to do something good, the feeling can be amazing.” He smiled teasingly at her, “Like now. Making you smile.”

A tired laugh escaped her. “Are you sure -”

“I checked earlier. Leon is dealing with the village session. Percival is in charge of training and I’m sure the council will survive without you for a day.”

She curled her fingers around his. “Thank you. I just worry, that if I’m not on top of everything, things will start to go wrong again and - it’s just that Camelot is all I have.”

“Get some rest. You’re going to have a long day tomorrow, with the guests.” Merlin’s fingers brushed gently against her forehead, pushing her curls back. “I’ll bring lunch for you in a while. And yes, I’ll check on everything.”

“Thank you.”

The smile he gave her was tinged with sadness. “It’s the least I can do.”

Once the door closed quietly behind him, Gwen closed her eyes, letting the exhaustion she’d been feeling over the past few days take over her. Merlin was right - Camelot would survive without her for a day, she thought just as sleep claimed her.

When she opened her eyes, the sun had set. In the corner of her room, shrouded in shadows cast by the candles lit in her room, was Merlin, his head buried in a book. He must have heard her move because his head snapped up.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Most of the day.” Merlin closed the book and walked over to the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Rested. And hungry,” she laughed when her stomach rumbled. “I don’t suppose you want to sneak down to the kitchens with me?”

“And annoy Cook? Of course.”

In the relative darkness of the corridors, their hands entwined as they tiptoed and avoided the castle patrol. It felt almost like the past, when they were servants whose only responsibilities were to their jobs. The kitchen was, thankfully, empty when they finally reached it. Gwen was peering inside the larder when sudden nausea swamped her and she stepped backwards into Merlin’s arms.

“What’s wrong?”

Splaying a hand over her stomach, she took a shuddering breath. “Smoked meat,” she gulped, trying to stop herself from throwing up.

It didn’t work.

Back in bed, Gwen watched silently as Gaius examined her. Merlin hovered in the background, a frown on his face.

“Merlin, get me some ginger flowers,” said Gaius. “Go on.” When Merlin was reluctantly gone, Gaius looked seriously at her. “When was the last time you bled?”

Taken aback by the question, Gwen struggled to remember. She’d been so caught up with ruling over Camelot that she hadn’t taken note of her monthly bleeding. “Before Arthur died,” she said, realising that it had been almost two months since her last bleeding. Then it dawned on her. “You think I’m pregnant.”

“The signs point to it. Merlin will probably know a spell to check.” He gave her a slight smile. “Congratulations.”

Gaius continued talking, telling her how to take care of herself, what she needed to eat to remain healthy but Gwen wasn’t listening. A million contradicting thoughts crowded in her brain. She had a part of Arthur growing in her. She was going to be a mother. Her child would never know their father. She couldn’t bring up a child on her own. How could she be a mother and rule a kingdom?

Merlin burst into the room, ginger flowers in his hand. “Found them. You really need a better system of organisation - what’s wrong?”

Gaius raised an eyebrow at her.

“Gaius thinks I might be pregnant.” It was her voice but it sounded so distant to her.  
The ginger flowers fell onto the ground, then a huge smile broke across Merlin’s face. “You’re pregnant,” he repeated in hushed awe. Then he grinned and whooped. “You’re pregnant!”

His glee was infectious and Gwen finally smiled at the news. “I’m pregnant. Oh Merlin,” her voice caught. “I’m having Arthur’s child.” Unconsciously, her fingers drifted towards her stomach.

“I know. It’s amazing.”

“Amazing,” Gwen repeated as she placed one hand gently on her stomach, almost feeling like she could feel the new life in her, a new life that was part Arthur. She smiled again, despite the fear that thumped in her heart.

+

“I need detailed reports of all the kingdoms in Albion. Everything you can possibly give me about them.” Gwen rubbed her stomach absently, willing it not to reject the biscuits she just ate.

“Yes,” agreed Merlin as he handed Percival a sheet of paper. “And not just the usual things like the strength of their army or the supplies in their granaries. Find out what food they are dependent on, who’s their biggest trading partner -” Before Merlin could finish, someone knocked.

“My lady.” Sir Brom cracked open the door slightly. “Sir Rowan would like an audience with you. He says it’s important.”

“Of course.” One of the more promising knights, Sir Rowan rarely asked to speak with her. She hoped he didn’t have news of more conflict brewing.

“My lady.” Sir Rowan stopped in front of her and bowed. “My apologies for not bringing this up during the council but it’s a delicate matter.” His eyes drifted to Percival and Merlin.

“They stay,” she said firmly. “There’s nothing you can’t say in front of them.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

She shifted in her seat, trying to settle her stomach. “What is it you want to discuss Sir Rowan?”

“Last week, we were on patrol in the north east lands -”  
“I know. You requested help for a small village plagued by bandits there. I agreed to an outpost.”

“Yes. While we were there, we spent a night at a tavern -”

Gwen frowned, remembering Gwaine’s boisterous recounts of the knights’ tavern visits much to the consternation of Elyan. “Do I really want to know this?”

“My lady, there was a man there who looks exactly like King Arthur.”

From the corner of her eye, she could see Percy straighten. Her own heart started to speed up, but she tried to speak as calmly as she could. “Probably just a lookalike. My father used to say that everyone had a double somewhere on earth.”

“That was my first thought. But I noticed he carries a sword that looks like Excalibur and his rings - he wears a ring that matches yours, my lady.”

Her heart thumped. “What are you saying?”

“He calls himself Kay but he’s very evasive about his life. Says he moves around a lot.”

“You must be mistaken.” Her voice was calm but her hands trembled. Suddenly, the emotions she usually kept tightly under wraps threatened to overwhelm her. Why did Rowan have to tell her this? Arthur was dead and there could be a million lookalikes wandering the earth for all she cared. Her eyes met Percival’s. “You must be.”

Sir Percival stepped forward. “You need to leave, Rowan.” With a bow, Rowan left the room. “Gwen, are you alright?”

“It’s not Arthur,” she said, more for her own benefit than anything.

“I’m sure it’s just someone who happens to look like him,” Percival agreed. “Look, it’s been a long day and Gaius -”

“What if it is him?” She looked at Merlin whose face had gone pale. “What if you thought he was dead but he wasn’t?” Her heart pounded in her ears and her breaths came in short bursts.  
Anxiety mixed with hope swirled in her stomach. If Arthur was still alive, why hadn’t he returned?

“He was dead,” Merlin finally said. “He was dead and I laid him to rest. Percival is right. It must be a lookalike.”

“But what if you were wrong? What if he’s alive? What if - what if he didn’t want to come back?” That thought crushed her and she gripped the table, thankful that she was seated. Her emotions were unravelling at the news and she was helpless to stop them.

Merlin took her hands, slowly uncurling her clenched fists. “Arthur promised you he’d never leave you and he would never have broken that promise if he could. You know that in your heart.”

Swallowing, Gwen nodded. “I know. I know.”

“It’s just a coincidence.” Percival grunted in agreement.

“But I need to know for sure,” she whispered as Percival and Merlin looked worriedly at each other.

+

The council said nothing when Gwen told them she was going to visit the place where Arthur fell. And within the day, she and Merlin were riding out towards the small village which was supposedly home to a man who looked exactly like her late husband.

Merlin was far from pleased.

As the campfire roared between them, Gwen studied Merlin’s profile in the flickering light. Tension was clearly written all over it.

“Maybe he will just be a lookalike and we’d have had a little trip away from the stress of Camelot,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “It’ll be like old times, when the two of us had nothing to worry about except our masters having clean clothes to wear.”

“I never liked laundry and at least Morgana never wore that finicky armour like Arthur.”

Gwen smiled. “Those were good times, weren’t they? I never thought my life would end up like this.”

“Sometimes,” Merlin said, staring into the fire, “I wish I never came to Camelot. That I’d ignored my mother, stayed in Ealdor, helped with the village.”

“You had a destiny.”

“And so did Arthur.” He paused, shifted and Gwen could see that he was about to say something she didn’t want to hear. “Gwen, don’t - don’t get your hopes up, alright?”

Her toes drew a circle in the sand. “You think it’s a lookalike.”

“I hope it is a lookalike. Because people returning from the dead is never good news.”

+

Clothed in a dress from her serving days, Gwen blended easily into the crowd at the tavern. A quick scan of the place told her that there was no one who looked like Arthur there and her heart sank. Despite the impossibility of Arthur being alive, deep inside she’d hoped that he had somehow defeated death, the same way he always seemed to so many times before.

“Are you looking for someone?” A friendly woman, a sloshing tankard in one hand, the other on her hip, asked.

“We heard that there was a young man who arrived recently. Blonde, about this tall -”

“Oh,” the woman said. “You must mean Kay. Nice fellow, great at hard labour.” Her smile wavered and she looked at Gwen and Merlin with blatant curiosity. “Do you know him?”  
“We might,” offered Merlin. “Where is he?”

“He’s in the village ten minutes away. He’s helping the blacksmith.”

“Well,” said Merlin wryly as they made the walk to the village, “this probably means that’s not Arthur. He might be able swing a sword relatively well, but making one is a completely different matter.”

But the moment Gwen rounded the corner of the blacksmith’s cottage, she saw him, his blonde hair falling messily over his eyes, his jaw clenched in concentration. He was hammering indelicately at a piece of metal and with every stroke, her own heart thudded.

It was Arthur. Sir Rowan was right. She was sure of it.

“Gwen,” whispered Merlin and she knew he had the same realisation. In front of them stood Arthur Pendragon, returned from the dead.

They must have made a sound because Arthur looked up. When his eyes caught hers, a shiver ran through her and she struggled to smile. In return, he looked at her, then at Merlin, slight confusion in his eyes. He put the hammer down and wiped his hands on the tattered apron he worn.

“Hi,” he said. “If you’re looking for Will, he’s resting in the back. I think his back is giving him problems.”

Gwen supposed she should have been prepared for this but the pain his lack of recognition brought her was almost physical. It was only Merlin's tight grasp on her hand that kept her standing.

“I’m Gwen.” The smile she pasted on her face hid her broken heart. When his fingers curled around her hand, she could barely contain her emotions. Inside, she was a mess, torn between demanding to know how and why he was alive and begging him to remember her. She glanced at Merlin, his face carved from stone.

“I’m Kay.” He shot her a warm smile before turning to Merlin. “You?”

“Ambrose,” said Merlin.

Arthur nodded at Merlin. “Nice to meet the two of you. I must say, we don’t get many visitors here and when we do, they tend to be either Camelot knights, merchants or bandits and you two don’t look like any of those.”

“We’re just passing through,” said Merlin smoothly. As Merlin lied easily to Arthur, she drank him in. For how long had she thought she’d never see him again and now he was standing in front of her? If she reached out, she could touch him, run her fingers down his cheek, rub her thumb across his lip, urge his head lower so she could kiss him.

“Gwen?” She tore her eyes from Arthur to focus on Merlin. “Kay says he’ll walk us back to the tavern.”

Arthur smiled again at her. “Just give me a moment to finish this. Then I’ll let Will know I’m going.”

“Here,” she said impulsively, stepping closer to him, “let me show you. You weren’t doing it correctly. I don’t think Will would have been pleased.”

She could feel his breath against the side of her face and his laughter rolled over her like a caress. “By all means.”

Touching him was a bad idea. But the bad ideas were always the ones that felt the best. Guiding his hands over the fire, she kept up a constant chatter about blacksmithing, something she was able to do without too much thought. She focused instead on the feel of Arthur’s skin under her hand, the familiar scent of Arthur surrounding her and the gentle puff of his breath against her neck.

Finally, the metal was hammered into shape. Sweat trickled down her face and she stepped away from Arthur with a pounding heart. He grabbed her hand, stopping her from moving too far.

“Thank you.” His voice was low, only for her, and his eyes were darker than before, the way they often looked when he was aroused. She flushed at the sudden intimacy that enveloped them, then pulled her hand away, stumbling backwards, before she did something foolish like kiss him.

As she moved away, her eyes caught sight of Excalibur hanging from his side. “That’s a beautiful sword. Surely you didn’t make that.”

Arthur’s laughter broke the tension between them. “You’re right. Will says that a very skilled blacksmith made it.”

“You don’t know who?”

He stiffened. “No. This was given to me. I should go tell Will I’m leaving.”

Within minutes, the three of them were on their way to the tavern. Arthur spoke fondly of the small village he seemed to have made home but he kept darting glances at her, and Gwen wondered if he could feel the pull that still existed between them.

“Muriel!” Arthur yelled as he entered the tavern.

Muriel waved from behind the counter but Gwen could see the sharp curiosity behind her friendly smile. A young girl, no older than 10, rushed from the tavern and wrapped her arms round Arthur’s legs. At the scene, something tugged at Gwen’s heart. Arthur looked every bit a father as he unclasped the girl’s arms and swung her up.

“Amber! This is Gwen,” he gestured to her, then turned to Merlin, “and Ambrose. This is Amber, Muriel’s little devil.”

“I’m not a devil!” Amber gasped and was rewarded with a tickle. Finally, Arthur lowered Amber down, ruffled her hair then told her to run off and help her mother.  
“Sorry about that. Let me introduce you properly to Muriel and she’ll set you up with some beds.”

+

Gwen could feel Arthur’s eyes on her as she poked and pushed at the food on her plate. Maybe it was the exhaustion of the journey, maybe it was the rush of feelings seeing Arthur alive and well again or maybe it was just her pregnancy but she felt that anything she ate would quickly end up on the floor.

“I’m sorry about the food. We don’t have much. I imagine things are different in Camelot.” Arthur shoved another spoonful of grub into his mouth. Ambrose said you two are from Camelot.”

“We are,” she confirmed.

“It’s a long way from Camelot. At least that’s what I was told.”

At his words, Merlin put his spoon down. “You’ve never been to Camelot?”

Gwen noted the hesitation before Arthur answered. “No, I haven’t. I was hoping to some time in the future though.”

“Funny,” replied Merlin. “Most young men often go to Camelot in search of fame and fortune.”

Gwen knew the moment Arthur’s defenses went up. She could see it in the taut lines of his face and she nudged Merlin’s foot with hers, willing him to stop pushing Arthur.

“Perhaps I am not most young men,” Arthur said.

Before Merlin could say anything else, Amber came to the table and clambered onto Arthur’s lap, distracting him.

“Hello!” Amber grinned at everyone. “Are you Kay’s friends?”

“We are now,” said Gwen warmly, fascinated by Arthur’s apparent closeness to Amber. She had always known that Arthur would be a wonderful father but seeing him act like one in front of her only confirmed her idea. And suddenly, she imagined herself grabbing his hand and telling him that he was going to be a father. Arthur would be surprised, then happiness would fill his face and he'd pick her up, twirl her around and tell her how absolutely delighted he was.

"That’s good." Amber's voice shook Gwen out of her thoughts.

Pushing away the images she'd formed in her mind, Gwen quickly asked, “Are you his friend too?”

Amber nodded in excitement. “I was his first friend,” she said in a hushed tone. “He doesn’t -”

“Amber.” Arthur’s voice carried a warning.

“He doesn’t what?” Merlin asked immediately, all smiles.

Clearly thrilled to be at the center of attention, Amber ignored Arthur’s warning tone and continued. “He doesn’t remember who he is.”

“Alright Amber. It’s late and you should be going to bed soon,” Arthur said firmly, lifting her off his lap and placing her gently onto the ground. “Go.” he gave her a light push. Amber looked back at him, worry in her eyes. His voice softened. “I’m not angry with you. Go.”

“You don’t remember who you are?” Merlin asked the moment Amber was out of hearing range. Merlin was still smiling but Gwen recognised the bite in his voice.

Arthur rubbed his eyes. “No I don't. I tried asking around - lots of merchants pass through the tavern - but aside from a few knights who joked that I looked like the King, ridiculous really, I've not had much luck. Not that it matters really now. I've made a life here."

"You do look like the king," said Gwen, ignoring Merlin's disapproving stare.

Arthur laughed. "I'm pretty sure I'm no one as important as the King. Look, I should go help Muriel. I hope you have a comfortable night." He nodded at Merlin but paused a while when he looked at Gwen. She was quite sure she was blushing under his gaze. Taking her hand, he kissed it. "It was lovely you meet you, Gwen."

+

Merlin retired to his room but Gwen was far too worked up to sleep. Promising Merlin she wouldn’t go too far, she tugged a shawl around her shoulders and walked out into the cool night air.

Stars blinked down at her and she allowed that little bit of hope that had been building in her the moment she laid eyes on Arthur in the forge freedom. She remembered how she used to think of Arthur looking down at her from the heavens. She'd never been so happy to be wrong before.

In the cocoon of darkness, Gwen could finally consider what this meant for her and for Camelot.  
“Your father is back,” she whispered as she rubbed her stomach. Her smile widened. “Your father is back,” she said again, letting both relief and happiness flow through her. Arthur would be able to deal with the council and the fighting kingdoms. Her child would have a father and most importantly, she wouldn’t be alone.

Footsteps sounded behind her and she turned, thinking it was Merlin checking up on her.

It was Arthur.

He stopped briefly, then continued walking towards her. The darkness shielded his face and she wondered what he was thinking when he stopped in front of her and simply looked at her.

“Kay,” she whispered, wanting to break the heavy silence. Unthinkingly, she placed her hand on his roughened cheek, something she did often. Arthur covered it with his. Something shifted in the wind and Gwen’s body became achingly aware of his so close to hers. She might have said something or maybe she had whimpered with need but Arthur’s lips came down upon hers, not with roughness or desperation, but with restrained tenderness and that only made her want more.

The taste of his lips, the feel of his muscles moving under her hands, the sounds he made deep in his throat were all too familiar, bringing Gwen back to a time when she was happy and losing Arthur was little more than a vague fear. She clutched at his shirt, groaning in disappointment when he drew back.

“Arthur.” It was a mistake the moment the word fell from her lips. Her eyes snapped open and her hand flew to her mouth, as if trying to take back the word from the still, dark air.

Arthur released his hold on her. “Arthur?” he asked warily. “Who is Arthur?”

"This - this wasn't how - I -" She stopped and drew in a deep breath, wondering if she’d ruined everything with her lack of control. Merlin had warned her - said they needed a plan. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have -"

“Who is Arthur?” The urgency in his voice was palpable.

She caved. “You.”

For a moment, he said nothing and she held her breath, visions of him reacting badly to the news running through her head. Then he smiled, a wide smile and even in the darkness, she could sense the relief that accompanied the smile.

“I’m Arthur. I didn’t know.” Laughter bubbled out of him. “I have so many questions.”

He didn’t remember still. Some foolish, silly part of her had hoped that the kiss and the mention of his name would return his memory, like it once did before. She took a step backwards. “We have to talk.”

He sat on the bench nearby when she gestured, then she followed suit. Not knowing where to start - did she tell him he was King Arthur of Camelot, did she tell him that it seemed like he had returned from the dead, did she tell him he was going to be a father - she said nothing, trying to sort out her thoughts, angry at herself for not listening to Merlin.

“Who am I to you?”

“You’re my husband,” she said quietly.

“Your husband,” he repeated. Then his smile rivaled the brightness of the stars. “I like that. Were you looking for me?”

A soft sigh escaped at his question. “Yes. Mer - Ambrose and I – he’s your best friend – we heard rumours that someone who looked like my husband was living here and so we made the journey here to find out if they were true.”

“So why didn’t you say something earlier?”

She wanted to tell him it was complicated but he deserved better than that. Finally, she confessed, hoping he didn’t think her out of her mind. “Because what do you do when you come face to face with someone you thought had been dead for two months?”

“Dead?” He looked at her. Even with the shadows on his face, she could sense his shock and disbelief. Whatever he had thought of, it clearly wasn’t this.

Memories of Leon and Percival delivering the news of Arthur’s death surfaced and she bit her lip, blinking back tears. Merlin was right. This didn’t make any sense. If there had been a chance of Arthur still alive, Merlin would never have left his side. So why was Arthur now sitting next to her, as alive as he could be? “Yes. There was a battle and we thought you’d died in it. Ambrose – he thought – he said that he’d buried you and – I don’t understand,” she sobbed as the tears found their escape.

Arthur didn’t laugh at her story nor did he recoil in shock or horror. Instead, he put his arm around her and tucked her into his side, into his warmth. Turning her head, she cried into his shoulder as he murmured comfort.

“Come, let’s go back and get some rest. We can talk about this tomorrow,” he said when her tears eventually dried and all that was left of her sobs were hiccups and short breaths.

+

Gwen looked out of the cracked window. Exhaustion was claiming her more often these days and as troubling as this whole situation was, she appreciated the chance to rest away from the demands of the court. She didn’t turn when the door to her room opened. “So, is he Arthur?”

“There doesn’t appear to be dark magic involved. At least I can’t sense any dark magic in use here. And that sword is definitely Excalibur - I could feel the magic.”

“And yet, you’re still not convinced.” Her hand cradled her stomach gently. “It is him, Merlin. I know it’s him, not a shade or a ghost. Somehow, he’s alive.”

“He was dead, Gwen. I saw him die with my own eyes, felt him breathe his last breath. And yet now he’s alive.”

“He doesn’t remember us,” she said, her heart ached at her words.

“No, he doesn’t appear to. Look, Gwen, we must be careful. There are still those loyal to Morgana."

It was childish, petulant in fact but Gwen turned away, not wanting to listen to Merlin’s dampening words.

"Gwen," Merlin placed a hand on her shoulder, "what do you want to do?"

“I want to go home, to Camelot. I want Arthur to remember everything. I want to tell him I’m pregnant with the child we always dreamed about. But I can’t have anything I want, can I?” Hot tears pricked the back of her eyes again. Maybe it was her pregnancy, maybe it was the stress of everything, maybe it was realising Arthur wasn’t dead after all but she could barely keep her emotions from breaking through her carefully practised facade the past few days.

Kneeling in front of her chair, Merlin rubbed her arm gently. “Perhaps we should break the news to him - that’s he’s the King. Then we can return to Camelot.”

“But you don’t trust him. And you have a point,” she conceded.

“It’s not him I don’t trust. I don’t trust the forces that brought him back.”

Gwen let her head fall against the cool glass and sighed. “Didn’t you say he would rise when Albion needed him most?”

Merlin laughed without humour. “I don’t think 2 months later was what they had in mind.”

“I know.” Then she sighed again. “He has a lot of questions. I think it’s time we told him some things. If there are darker forces at work, then it’s better he is with us, where we can keep an eye on him.”

+

Gwen was glad she insisted they answer Arthur’s questions in his room, small as it was. She sat on the creaky bed, balancing her bowl of gruel on her lap while Merlin and Arthur sat on the floor. Arthur didn’t seem affected by her revelation last night and she took that as a good sign. As she watched Arthur shovel the gruel into his mouth, she couldn’t help her smile.

“What is it?” Arthur asked, his mouth still full of food.

She started, unaware that he was watching her. "Nothing much. I just remembered how you hated such food. Once upon a time, you’d rather starve."

Arthur made a noise in his throat. “I must have been difficult to cook for then.”

“Very,” muttered Merlin.

Then silence fell upon them again, only the clatter of their spoons against the bowls marring it. She couldn’t help darting glances at Arthur, with his golden hair and skin, his warm lips and strong hands. He looked every bit the husband she lost but he wasn’t. Not completely and that scared her. He wasn’t about to slip easily back into life with her in Camelot.

“Right,” Arthur placed his now empty bowl on the wooden floor next to him. “I guess we need to talk. So far, I know that I’m your husband and I suppose that means I am from Camelot as well. And you,” he waved his hand at Merlin, “are my best friend but you live in Ealdor?”

“Ah, no,” said Gwen as she slid her bowl aside, ignoring Merlin’s concerned look when he noticed her bowl was practically untouched. “We all live in Camelot.”

“And what is it we do for a living?” He smiled. “I can’t possibly be a blacksmith since I’m horrible at it. Perhaps I’m a guard for hire? I've come to realise that I'm very good with a sword. It’s the only reason the people of Helb keep me here.”

Gwen looked at Merlin who gestured for her to continue. “Actually, we live in the castle.”

“I’m a knight?” The awe in his eyes was a sight to behold. How often had Arthur been awed by anything? “Not that it’s surprising. If I were the King, I'd hire me as well.”

Merlin chuckled. “I see death hasn’t made you any less humble.”  
A pillow flew across the room, hitting Merlin on the head.

Gwen laughed, drinking in the familiar scene as Merlin rolled his eyes and grumbled about how things never changed.

“So I’m Sir Arthur?” He stretched his legs out, a smug smile on his face. “Am I the head knight?”

“Not really.” This was it. “You’re the King.”

The smile slid from his face and he stared at her, before looking at Merlin. Then he laughed, a deep full-bellied laugh. “Fine, maybe I was a little too smug but seeing that I’d been worrying that I was a bandit, you can forgive my delight.”

“You really are the King,” repeated Merlin. “And she is your wife, Queen Guinevere.”

“You’re lying. If you’re the Queen, then how can you travel all the way here without guards?” Arthur glance briefly at Merlin. “Ambrose here looks like a gust of wind can blow him over.”

“Arthur,” Gwen reached out a hand. “It’s true. Surely you’ve heard people talk about the battle that happened at Camlann and how their king died there fighting for all of Albion. That king is you and we all believed you were dead.”

He stood, his face still a mask of disbelief. “No. I can't be King and I’m most definitely not the King Arthur.” Without waiting for an answer, he walked out of the room.

The door shut firmly and with it, Gwen’s heart broke. She blinked, the familiar feel of tears in her eyes again, refusing to cry again in front of Merlin. “This was a mistake.” They should have left everything well alone. She should be back in Camelot keeping an eye on things. Not here, chasing dreams that she should never have dreamed of in the first place.

“I don’t know if we did the right thing,” said Merlin, “but we have to finish this talk with him.”

+

Much later, she found him sitting on that rickety bench with Amber on his knee. For a while, she lingered in the shadows of the tavern, watching as Arthur indulged Amber with stories he obviously made up, about knights and big, ugly monster that were part bear and part lion. His voice changed as he narrated the story, mimicking the various characters involved. She thought of the child growing within her, feeling irrationally jealous of Amber.

“Why are all the knights boys? I want to be a knight too.”

Arthur’s laugh floated to her. “I thought you wanted to be a princess.”

“Why can’t I be both?”

“Why not? I’m sure you can be both a princess and a knight.”

Amber nodded happily before breaking into a yawn.

“Alright, off to bed.” Arthur set her on the ground, gave her a squeeze and pushed her gently towards the tavern. “Good night.”

“Night,” Amber murmured, rubbing her eyes, as she disappeared.

As Gwen hesitated, wondering whether to approach Arthur, she heard him call out. “I know you’re there Gwen.”

“I thought I was being quiet,” she said as she sat down on the bench next to him.

He smiled slightly. “Perhaps it’s because we’re married. I can always sense you around. I can feel your eyes on me.” His voice gentled. “It must have been hard, the last few months.”

“I had a kingdom to run so I never really had a chance to sit down and think about it.” She looked at him, took a deep breath and confessed. “I missed you.”

He tilted his head and looked at the sky, his hand reaching for hers. “I guess it’s true then.”

“That you’re the king? I’m not lying to you.”

“No,” he said softly, squeezing her hand. “You wouldn’t lie to me. I know that.”

This time, the silence that fell between them was comfortable, broken only by the occasional noise from the tavern when the door opened. The breeze kissed her face, lifting her curls and the growing darkness seemed to cocoon them from the rest of the world. His hand held hers gently. His thumb brushing across the back of her hand and Gwen let hope blossom in her heart. Perhaps he didn’t remember anything about his life before, but he was still her husband, the man she loved and perhaps they would make this work.

“When I awoke without my memory,” he said, his voice hushed, “I was lying in the mud in the middle of the forest. All I had were my sword and the rings and I knew they were the keys to my past. But I’d thought I was a mercenary. In more pessimistic moods, I wondered if I was a bandit. I never thought I was king.”

Her lips curled into a smile. “You were born to be king. It is your destiny and despite your grumbles, you loved it.”

“Destiny is a big word.”

“I know but you wore it well.”

“Hmm. I guess Ambrose is really Merlin - my magical sidekick? There's a lot of stories about him being told here – some flattering, some not so flattering.”

Gwen laughed at that. “Who have you been talking to? He’s nobody’s sidekick.” Her laughter faded. “He’s the most powerful warlock of our time.”

A frown appeared on Arthur’s face. “I don’t understand. If Merlin is a powerful warlock and my best friend, why was magic still punishable by death just a few months ago? And why is everyone still so afraid of magic? What kind of hypocrite am I?”

“No one knew about his magic until the last battle.”

Arthur’s frown deepened. “He kept it a secret? For how long?”

“This is probably something you need to talk to him about,” said Gwen, slightly uncomfortable with the questions.

Releasing her hand, Arthur rubbed his forehead. “I have so many questions.”

“I know. Come back to Camelot,” urged Gwen. “Maybe things will be clearer there.”

“If I return to Camelot, everyone will know who I am. They will expect things of me, things I can’t deliver.” Gwen could hear the slight panic in his voice. “Gwen, I don’t remember anything of my life before that moment I woke in the forest. I’m not the Arthur who knows how to be king. I’m not the Arthur who was born for that role.”

And he was right Gwen realised with a sinking heart. Perhaps he looked like Arthur, even had the sword and rings that Arthur had, and possibly his personality but with his memories gone, he knew as much about being king as Muriel did.

“You know what I wish?” Gwen finally said, breaking the silence that had developed between them. “I wish we were just two ordinary people who lived in a village like this. I’d be a blacksmith and you’d be my assistant and we’d have a dozen little children.”

His soft laugh lifted her spirits slightly. “You know, that sounds really good. But that’s not going to happen, is it?”

“I could abdicate.”

He turned his head and she could feel his gaze on her. “I have only known you for two days, but I know that isn’t something you can do with a clear conscience.”

Ignoring the ache in her heart at the reminder that Arthur didn’t remember her, she smiled wanly at him. “You’re probably right.” She peered at him, taking in the familiar outline of his face, the curve of his lips, the slight dusting of a shadow along his jawline.

“I’m sorry I walked out on you and Merlin.”

She said nothing, dragging her eyes from his profile to stare at the stars. The tavern door opened a few more times, letting out various people. Some noticed them in the shadows, called a hearty farewell to Arthur, or Kay as he was known, before going on their way. Eventually, the lights in the tavern dimmed.

“I need to return to Camelot soon. Will you come with us?”

Arthur shifted in his seat, rubbed the back of his neck then stared up into the sky. “It’s just all so sudden.”

“Don’t you want to return?” She could hear her heart pounding in her ears.

“To a place I don’t know?” He sucked in a breath. “I thought I did. Perhaps if I were just a mercenary or even a knight, I would but to be king? I don’t know.”

A cold hand closed around her heart. “But you are king.”

Arthur looked at her, uncertainty in his eyes. “Gwen - Everyone thinks I’m dead. I don’t know how to be king. I don’t remember anything. How can I go back?”

“I know you’re not dead,” she whispered. But even in her heartbreak and disappointment, she couldn’t fault his reaction. The day Arthur placed the crown on her head, she had been terrified, spending the months beforehand second guessing her decision to marry him. And she’d years to prepare for it.

“I’m sorry.” It was all he had for her and as she stood to return to the tavern, she felt as if she’d lost Arthur all over again.

+

Slowly, Gwen placed her clothes into her bag. She’d been in Helb for almost four days and with a three day journey back to Camelot, they couldn’t afford to stay on much longer. Soon, the council would start to ask difficult questions and it wasn’t fair for Leon to have to bear the brunt of that, even with Merlin magically checking in with them periodically. Merlin hadn’t said anything in response to her flat retelling of her conversation with Arthur aside from hugging her tightly. The next day, she pleaded sickness and stayed in the room, occasionally looking out of the window, hoping to catch sight of Arthur. But he too stayed away.

“All packed?” Merlin stepped into the room, his brow furrowed.

“Yes. Have you settled up with Muriel? Is Amber all ready?”

“Yes to both. Muriel packed us some supplies for our journey. Are you sure we should be travelling with Amber?”

Turning to fuss with her bag, Gwen nodded. “Muriel wants Amber to have a better life in Camelot. I know how that feels. It's why my father got me that job in the castle.”

“Are you ready to leave?” Merlin reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to say goodbye -”

“Gwen, Merlin.” Arthur stood at the door, his presence immediately making the room feel even smaller.

Her heart sank. She didn’t want to say goodbye. She wanted to slip off quietly and forget she ever came to Helb, forget about all the foolish hopes she’d secretly carried. Still, years of being queen meant she was able to smile and greet him warmly.

Then she noticed he had a pack with him.

“You’re coming?”

Shrugging, Arthur looked away. “Something like that. I know Merlin’s a powerful warlock and all but really, he looks like he’d faint at the first sight of blood. I’ll escort you and Amber at least to the border.”

“I heard that!” Merlin spun around to face Arthur. “You have no idea what I can do to you.”

Arthur straightened at Merlin’s words, his hand immediately going for Excalibur. “I’m not afraid of your magic," he said.

Gwen's eyes flew to Merlin whose good humour had faded quickly. "You should be," Merlin said, a hardness in his tone "Your sword is no match -"

“You’re free to ride with us,” interrupted Gwen quickly. “I’m sure Amber will be pleased.”

Distracted, Arthur stopped glaring at Merlin and turned his attention back to Gwen. “She’s nervous and very excited. Thank you for doing this for her.”

“It’s nothing much,” said Gwen, trying to sound calm in face of confirmation that it was Amber he was riding to Camelot for. What had she sunk to, being jealous of a young girl?

He stepped closer. “It’s not nothing. I heard you tell Muriel you’d personally look after her.”

She could feel the heat from his body, smell his familiar scent, the one that had finally faded from her sheets weeks ago. His fingers brushed gently across her cheek and she looked into his eyes. “She’s young and will be without her family. It is the least I can do.”

His fingers stilled and he cupped her cheek. Giving in, Gwen allowed herself to lean into his touch. “I can see why I love you,” he murmured as his eyes darkened. She wondered if Arthur could hear her heart thumping.

Something fell over, crashing onto the wooden floorboards.

Merlin grinned sheepishly.

“We’ll set off in an hour,” said Arthur briskly, moving away from Gwen. “I’ll see you at the stables.”

At their murmured agreement, he left the room.

“No memories and he’s still acts like he’s king,” grumbled Merlin, picking up the book he’d dropped.

She stilled at Merlin’s words. “That’s the problem isn’t it? The fact that he can’t remember anything. That’s why he won’t return to Camelot.”

The look Merlin gave her articulated the obviousness of her statement.  
“We just need to get his memory back. Surely -”

Merlin took a step back, arms raised. “You want me to use magic on Arthur?”

“I - “ she faltered. As much as she trusted Merlin, she still found it difficult to trust magic. “I don’t know. Would it be dangerous?”

“I’ve only ever done temporary spells on him. Anything more permanent -” he trailed off, letting her fill in the blanks herself. “But perhaps, he just needs something jolt his memory. Something familiar. And maybe we’ll discover why he’s back.”

“You still don’t trust him.”

“I don’t trust his return.”

+

The lush canopy provided shelter from the blazing sun as they wound their way through the forest, the only sounds coming from their sniffing horses and the dull thread of their hooves on the damp ground. The horses cantered calmly along the well-worn path towards Camelot. Her hair, teased out of the bun she’d tied them in by the wind, fluttered against her face and Gwen breathed in deeply, enjoying the musky scent of the forest that tickled her nostrils. She’d always found riding relaxing, the rhythmic movement of the horse, the fresh air, the wide open spaces – riding gave her a freedom she didn’t experience elsewhere.

Only despite her best attempts, during this ride, Gwen was achingly aware that just a short distance away, rode Arthur and she found herself sneaking glances at him, then turning away flushed when he caught her eye. She really needed to stop acting like a young girl in love again.

“How long till we get to Camelot?” asked Amber for the fifth time.

“It’ll be at least another two days,” said Arthur, his arms tightening around a sleeping Amber. “Right Merlin?”

Merlin just grunted.

“I would have thought you’d be pleased to be returning to Camelot,” said Arthur.

“I’m thrilled,” said Merlin flatly before he tugged at his reigns, urging his horse to move faster.

Arthur’s horse moved nearer to hers. “He’s not very friendly, is he?”

“He’s just worried.”

"Worried? Are there problems back home?"

Her head knew Arthur was just being curious, asking out of politeness, but her heart wondered if Arthur felt any connection to the land he was born to rule. "Just the usual border disputes," said Gwen, unwilling to give voice to her concerns. Merlin's guardedness around Arthur only served to make her more circumspect in her dealings with him.

"Do you ever stop worrying about your kingdom?"

"Only for the briefest moments," said Gwen. Unsaid was how many of those moments were time spent with Arthur, curled in his arms, ensconced in their bed, discussing the most mundane of things. The last time, they had been arguing over whether it was better to sleep above or below the covers in summer. A lump formed in her throat.

Arthur's quiet voice intruded. "Must be tiring. Being Queen."

"It's not always bad." And it hadn't been when Arthur was alive, when they watched Camelot blossom under their rule. "It's not," she repeated.

"Tell me more about Camelot."

"Camelot is wide, blue skies and lush forests. She withstood wars, protected her people during dark times. She's children playing in the courtyard, people working towards a better future. She's where commoners can aspire to be knights, where a servant can be a queen, where you can be anything you want."

"She's hope," said Arthur.

"She is hope." Gwen smiled, her heart lifting at his words. Arthur may claim to remember nothing but Gwen knew then that Camelot was still a part of him. Merlin was wrong. He was Arthur.

Amber stirred, and Arthur turned his attention to her, adjusting her gently until she settled. He looked up, their eyes locking. A shiver ran through her and she was sure Arthur felt the same when he suddenly looked away.

"There's a clearing ahead. Looks like a great place to stop for the night," called Merlin from the front.

+

As Gwen knelt in front of the smothering wood, she was acutely aware of Arthur's eyes on her. Her hands became clumsy and it took her more tries than usual to get a fire going.

"Why doesn't Merlin use his magic to light a fire?" He perched on a fallen log having just settled Amber down. "Seems it would be easier."

Gwen's eyes darted to where Merlin stood watering the horses. "Habit? I usually start the fires. You weren't very good at it."

Amusement flared in his eyes. "What was I good at?"

"Besides being a general pain?" Merlin, obviously eavesdropping, yelled over. His attempt at humour was half-hearted and Arthur merely looked slightly confused.

Amber stirred next to them, stuffing her thumb into her mouth before settling into sleep again.

“She so young,” Arthur murmured.

“I was her age when I went to work in the castle.” The fire had finally sprung to life and Gwen stood, wiping her hands down the brown pants she wore before making her way to the fallen log. Her hands brushed against the rough bark as she sat down.

“Tell me.”

Gwen’s startled eyes met his.

“I should get to know you, shouldn’t I?”

Shifting so she sat more comfortably, Gwen absently picked up a twig. “My father was a blacksmith in the lower town. He sent me to work in the royal kitchens when I was nine. Mum had died -”

Merlin returned, pots in hand. He looked from Arthur to Gwen. “Dinner?” he asked.

“You cooking?” asked Gwen with a smile.

With a roll of his eyes, Merlin sighed. “Of course. Can’t expect the King and Queen to.”

“Merlin -”

Merlin shot Gwen a smile. “I was just teasing.” But when his eyes moved to Arthur, the smile faded. “What were you two talking about?”

“Arthur was just asking about when I started working at the castle. It seems so long ago,” Gwen said.

“Bet you never thought you’d be queen,” Merlin said lightly as he stirred something in the pot. His voice gentled. “I’m glad you are queen though.”

“I did dream of being a princess,” she laughed. Her eyes met Arthur's and her laugh faded at the intensity in his expression. The twig broke in her hand and she let it drop.

Merlin cleared his throat.

Arthur was the first to break eye contact. “What about you Merlin? When did you come to Camelot?”  
With some reluctance, Merlin told him of how he’d gone to Camelot to learn under Gaius and how they first met.

“So, as a reward, you got to be my manservant?” Amusement and confusion warred in Arthur's voice and Gwen couldn't help her smile. “You must have been an awful servant.”

“The worst you’ve ever had,” retorted Merlin.

When Arthur laughed in response, Gwen felt the tension that had built between Arthur and Merlin through the day ease slightly.

“This probably means your cooking is terrible as well," sighed Arthur.

“I wouldn’t dare subject you to it,” replied Merlin, with far too much innocence in his voice.

“Give it here." Arthur reached for the pot but Merlin deftly put his body between Arthur and the pot.

Arthur scowled before sitting back on the log.

Merlin passed a bowl to Gwen who thanked him, mirth colouring her voice. Then with excruciating slowness, scooped another bowl. Merlin dipped a spoon into the bowl and took a large, loud slurp. “Mmmm.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said slowly. “Can I please have a bowl?”

“I wouldn’t want to subject you to my bad cooking. Better you save your stomach for something better. Perhaps some beetles?”

Gwen laughed. She never knew seeing Arthur and Merlin bicker would fill her with so much affection and love.

“Merlin!”

+

She moved slightly to the right but whatever it was that was poking her in her back was still there. Sighing, Gwen sat up and rubbed her face. The moon was high in the sky and for a while, Gwen sat, listening to the sounds the forest made at night - the whine of the insects, the distant rush of water from a nearby stream, the occasional cry of a bird.

Arthur sat in front of the burning campfire and Gwen allowed herself the moment to stare at his familiar profile. His hair glowed in the firelight and from the way he slumped against the tree, his hands playing with his sword, she knew he was worrying.

The wet leaves and mud made little noise as she padded towards the fire, but a twig snapping gave her away. Arthur turned around immediately, his hand going to his sword. She knew the moment he spotted her. His body relaxed and she thought she could see a smile on his face. She definitely saw the little tilt of his head, beckoning her to him.

"Hi," he whispered. His breath stirred against her hair and cheek, sending shivers down her spine. They weren't touching but Gwen swore she could feel his skin against hers. He patted the ground next to him and she sat.

She studied him blatantly as he watched the fire. The familiar curve of his lips, the way his eyelashes swept down when he blinked, the almost invisible scar near his ear. She ached to touch him, but didn't dare.

"I should be allowed to stare at you too."

It wasn't her nearness to the fire that heated her cheeks. Quickly, she looked down at the ground, the leaves and mud a sudden fascination. A finger lifted her chin and she found herself staring into Arthur's blue eyes. The sounds of the forest retreated and all Gwen could hear was the pounding of hearts. Her mouth opened, wanting to say something to break the tension, but her throat was too dry and nothing would come out. Instead, Arthur's thumb dragged across her bottom lip.

"I'm going to kiss you," he said.

"Yes." It was the only answer to give.

It started out gently, his lips brushing once, twice across hers then his teeth nipping. She must have groaned because she was being pressed against the tree, its rough bark no more comfortable than the ground she'd left but this time it didn't matter because all her senses was focused only on one man. His hands cupped her face, creating a little cocoon around them.

Somehow, his shirt was rucked up and her hand slid slowly up his bare skin. He was warm and she wondered if it was from the fire or from her. She was burning with need and it had nothing to do with the fire blazing next to them. He shuddered under her touch, sucking in a breath when her fingernail scrapped across his nipple, causing her to smile against his lips. The confirmation that Arthur still desired her lifted her heart.

She stilled when her fingers ran across a slightly raised line of skin. Contact between their lips broke and she looked down at where she was touching.

“This scar,” she whispered as the haze of desire in her mind cleared and was replaced by memories of her tending to the wound that caused the scar. “You got it during one of those battles with Morgana. I remember dressing it.” The breath she sucked in was a shuddery one. “You were hiding in Ealdor.”

“It doesn’t seem like a bad scar. I probably wasn’t in danger of dying.” He closed one hand over her fingers.

“It’s not the scar.” She looked up at him, the tears in her eyes reflecting the campfire. “I don’t want to lose you again Arthur.”

Her heart dipped when Arthur moved away, breaking the spell that had enchanted them just moments ago. But his hand still held hers. She swiped one arm across her face, then smiled tentatively. “At least the physical attraction is still there,” she said.

"The physical attraction has been there the first time I saw you," said Arthur.

"It wasn't like this in the beginning. I don’t even think you knew who I was." She stretched out her legs and wriggled her toes at the fire.

"I must have been blind."

"Or you were a prince and I was one of the many servants running around. No one special."

"You are clearly special to me. I can't believe marrying a servant was an easy decision."

Gwen shook her head. "Neither was the decision to be Queen."

"Do you regret it?" Arthur asked.

"I wonder, sometimes. But no, I wouldn't have wanted to marry anybody else."

"You really loved me," he said, a hint of amazement in his voice. "I heard rumours that you married me for the throne."

Arthur didn't know her, Gwen reminded herself and yet his words cut deeply. "I love you more than anything."

Silence fell between them. Her head dropped to his shoulder and he shifted slightly so she was comfortable. His steady breath puffed against her ear as her eyes closed.

"Don't you ever wonder what your life was like?" Gwen asked after some time.

He moved and pulled her closer to him, releasing her hand but draping one arm across her shoulders. "I do. I wondered if I had a family, a business. Then when it seemed no one knew who I was, I wondered if I had been a traveller or some sort or a bandit. It's strange not knowing anything, like there's a gaping hole in my head, but it's been four months now and I've gotten used to it."

"Come to Camelot," she urged. "You deserve to fill that hole. Your whole life was Camelot. Who's to say you won't get back your memory when you are there?"

"I can't say I'm not tempted," he said after a while.

"You don't have to be King. You could be in disguise and the castle is so big that it's easy to hide." The more Gwen thought about it, the more excited she got. "You could come to Camelot, stay a while, see if you remember anything -"

"Gwen," he said. "Gwen."

She stopped, her heart pounding, she wasn't sure with excitement or with nerves.

"I'll go to Camelot. But that's all I can promise you."

Even his last words weren't able to dampen the joy that fluttered in her heart.

+

Gwen watched as Arthur tugged the cloak around him, memories of happier times with him in a similar blue cloak floated in her head.

“You used to dress this way when you wanted to walk through the town unrecognised,” she said.

“Did it work?”

“I think it did.” She gave in to the urge to smooth down an imaginary crease on his cloak, running her hand gently down his chest.

He smiled at that, trapping her hand under his. “That’s good.”

“I don’t know how long we can keep you hidden,” she said quickly, unnerved suddenly by his closeness. “We have to tell Leon and Percy but if you don’t move around too much in the castle, then I think -”

The feel of his palm on her cheek stopped her words. When his thumb rubbed her bottom lip, she sucked in a breath and held it, unable to stop looking at him. Under her hand, she could feel his heart thumping, or perhaps it was hers.

“It’ll be fine Gwen.”

“Are you sure?” She regretted the words the moment they left her lips. Was she trying to stop Arthur from returning?

He sucked in a breath. “I'm sure. I was scared before and I let it affect my decisions. I should, at the very least, see if I can get my memories and my past back. And,” he paused, tilting her head towards his, “there’s you.”

Even after their conversation by the firelight, the notion that he was staying had seemed something like a dream. Part of her had been convinced that he would renege on his promise to return. That he was standing at the border of Camelot, saying that he wanted to stay for her made her heart soar.

But Gwen was always practical.

“I come with the kingdom,” she said, for the first time truly understanding how Arthur must have felt all those years ago.

She had hoped, foolishly, Arthur would agree then sweep her off her feet, declaring that it didn’t matter. Instead, his hands dropped and he stepped back. She closed her eyes, hoping to dull the ache in her heart.

“I should check on Merlin,” she said when the silence got too much.

He caught her arm before she could walk away. “Gwen. I just need some time.” His voice softened. “I’m not him. Not yet.”

Nodding, she pulled her arm from his grasp. She knew that. It was just so hard to remember. “Maybe,” she said, glad she sounded normal. “Maybe when you regain your memories, you’ll be him again.” Not waiting for his answer, she made her way to where Merlin stood with Amber, with the horses.

+

“Things have been developing in your absence.” Lord Hector practically sneered his last words at her as she walked past him and Gwen realised any truce she thought she’d found with him no longer existed.

“I was only gone for about a week,” she said.

There was a snort. “A lot can happen in a week.”

Smiling tightly, she ignored Hector and turned to address the council, instructing them to update her on all she’d missed over the past two weeks away. Most of the news was nothing unusual, nothing Percy hadn’t already briefed her on earlier and she couldn’t stop her thoughts from drifting to Arthur.

They had snuck into Camelot under the cover of darkness and then set Arthur up in a servant’s room tucked in a relatively isolated area of the castle. Seeing his eyes widen when he saw the room drove home the painful point that the man who stood in front of her, marvelling at the comforts offered in the castle, was not the same man she married. Still, she couldn't help her smile when she remembered him gushing over the bed. That small bed in the servant's room was a far cry from what he enjoyed in their chambers.

“Your majesty?”

She blinked, dragging her attention back to the council. “I’m sorry. What was it?”

“Our men have sent word that Lord Edward and Lady Joan have been amassing an army at their borders.”

Alarm shot through Gwen. This wasn’t a mere skirmish. “Didn’t they sign a peace treaty here just two months ago? A peace treaty we negotiated?”

“Lord Edward has not kept to his side of the bargain.”

Hector spoke up. “There’s no reason for us to get involved. We’re not in the position to get caught up in more conflicts.”

“I agree,” said Sir Asher. “Their kingdoms are small and far away. There is no reason for us to get involved.”

“They are testing me,” said Gwen quietly. “And I’m not going to sit here quietly and let him think that Camelot is a pushover. We supported the peace treaty and we will ensure that they adhere to it.”

“We cannot afford another war!” Hector said forcefully, as a number of the council members nodded their heads in agreement.

Leon shot her a look and Gwen sighed inwardly. Everything was a battle. “I think that perhaps we will need more information before deciding. Sir Leon, please check with our men there.”

“Is there anything else?” she asked tightly as she looked down at the notes she’d taken throughout the meeting. A long list of things to solve stared back at her and she could feel the beginnings of stress creep up on her. What she wouldn't give to be back in the forest, sitting with Arthur by the campfire.

“There is one more,” Hector said again. “King Lester sent a proposal while you were gone.”

“A proposal?”

Hector smiled which made dread pool in Gwen’s stomach. “As you know, he has a son and he wishes to join Camelot and Acerith through marriage.”

Her mouth fell open and for a moment, she simply stared at Hector. Finally, she choked out the word ‘marriage’.

“Yes. I highly recommend it. Acerith and Camelot have an uneasy relationship but this will strengthen it. And if you have plans to go to war again -” His words drifted off but his meaning was clear.

She thought of Arthur in his small servant room. She thought of the baby growing in her. Her stomach clenched. “No. There will be no marriage.”

Immediately, Hector’s expression changed. “You should give it more consideration, my lady. You know that the other kingdoms see us as weak without Arthur. This alliance will dispel any such notion.”

“I’ll think about it,” she lied, unable to take more discussion of the matter.

She knew Hector saw through her lie but he let it go. “King Lester would like a decision by next week. The marriage itself can wait a while,” Hector said, false concern in his eyes, “if you need more time to mourn Arthur.”

When the meeting finally ended, Gwen, feeling a wave of exhaustion hit her, slowly made her way out of the council room. At the entrance, Sir Rowan stood, clearly waiting for her.

He bowed. “May I have a word, your majesty?”

“Of course.”

“Did you see the man I told you about? The one who looks like King Arthur?”

Aware of the number of people walking up and down the corridor, Gwen quickly guided Rowan into a quieter corner. “I did.”

“And? Sorry, if you don’t mind telling me that is. I admit I have not been able to stop wondering about him. Has Arthur returned?”

“Rowan, I know you’re discreet and loyal but not all your men are. All I can tell you is that it is complicated and I hope that you’ll respect the promise I asked of you before.”

Hope flashed in Rowan’s eyes. “So he has returned. This is great. It will -”

“Rowan,” Gwen said warningly. “If I hear rumours of his return, I will know it’s you.”

“Yes. I understand your majesty.” Bowing again, he left Gwen standing alone, her thoughts once again on Arthur. Around her, knights and servants moved, focused on their duties. Sometimes, briefly, she wished she could turn back time and go back to being a servant when all that was required of her was to follow the instructions of her mistress, when the fate of a whole land didn’t rest heavily on her shoulders.

“Gwen - your highness.” Turning a corner, Gwen saw a frowning Amber, dressed in the usual kitchen hand wear. The moment Amber realised Gwen was in front of her, she dipped into a clumsy curtsey.

“And where are you off to? Shouldn’t you be in the kitchens?” Gwen smiled at Amber, hoping to ease the unhappiness on her face.

“Cook said I could have a break. I was looking for Kay. But I think I’m lost.”

“Well then,” said Gwen, “it’s a good thing I know the castle very well.” She stretched her hand out to Amber who, after a moment’s hesitation, placed her hand in Gwen’s. “Come, I’ll show you how to get from the kitchens to his room.”

As they walked, Gwen plied Amber with questions about her first few days in Camelot, partly because she had become fond of the chatty, high spirited girl and partly because it kept her mind off all the pressures of her station.

“And Cook is really fierce, but just now, she said I did a good job with the bread and gave me some leftovers. I’m not as careless as Jon she said,” grinned Amber, clearly pleased at outshining Jon in the kitchen.

“That’s great. I’m glad you’re doing well.”

Her small hand gripped Gwen’s tightly. “I miss my mum though. Do you think we can visit her?”

“Maybe,” said Gwen vaguely, unsure how to tell the young girl that it would be a few months before she could feasibly return. Thankfully, that answer seemed to be enough for Amber. “This is Kay’s room. Remember, it's our secret alright?”

Amber nodded then knocked enthusiastically at the door which opened immediately.

Busy with her duties, Gwen hadn’t seen Arthur since showing him to this room the day before and she couldn’t help the little jump her heart gave when the door opened to reveal him.

“You have a visitor,” she said as calmly as she could.

Kneeling down, he gathered Amber into a hug, then smiled at Gwen over Amber’s head. “You look tired,” he said, his eyes full of concern.

Something constricted in her heart. The whole day had been filled with people wanting, demanding things from her - favours, time, decisions. Arthur was the first one to actually ask about her.

“It’s been a long day,” she said. “And I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Would you like to stay a while?” When she hesitated, he continued. “I’ve spent the whole day alone here. It’s getting a little frustrating.”

Gwen thought of the pile of letters on her table and the reports on the various kingdoms Percival had collected. Then she looked at Arthur. “For a while,” she said.

With Amber around, they let her lead the conversation as she told them about the warm kitchens, about annoying Jon who was a new helper like her and about Cook who was angry all the time. Gwen nodded and made noises at all the right places, her attention mostly on Arthur who fussed over Amber.

"How long have we been here?" Amber asked suddenly, in the middle of a story about bread. "Cook would be angry if I'm late and I don't want her to like Jon more." She stood with great determination.

Arthur laughed quietly, pulled Amber to him and kissed the top of her head. "Be good," he said as she dashed out of the door.

Gwen stood as well, smoothing her skirts. “I should -”

She stopped when Arthur’s fingers curled lightly around her wrist. “Just a while more?”

Gwen hadn't been alone with Arthur since that night at the campfire and being in a small room with him made her nervous. It didn't even make any sense. This was Arthur, her husband and she couldn't even make eye contact with him. “Is everything here alright? Was lunch fine?”

“Gwen. Stop it. I’m fine.”

She nodded. “How was your day?”

The question made him chuckle and he let go of her arm. Gwen missed his touch almost immediately. “Terrible. I’ve been looking through these tomes you gave me about my history and my past. Not only is none of this triggering any memories, they are incredibly boring. Did I really read them when I was younger?”

She tore her eyes from him and tried to hide a smile.

“You liar,” he laughed. “I never read this when I was younger.”

“Well, you were supposed to,” Gwen replied, smiling genuinely. “So even being in Camelot, you remember nothing?” The smile faded slightly.

“No, I’m sorry. Are we even sure I’m this King Arthur? Maybe I’m a bandit and stole the sword and rings off his body.”

Gwen studied the man in front of her. There was no doubt in her mind he was Arthur. He looked like Arthur, had scars in the same area as Arthur and more importantly, he had Arthur’s generous heart. She shook her head. “You’re Arthur. You just need to remember it.”

“I can’t hide here forever hoping to remember,” he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “What if I never remember anything?”

"You could still take the crown, be king.”

The smile he gave her was tight. The once light atmosphere became heavier and tension crackled in the air. “I could do that,” he said, completely without sincerity. Then he sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know if I can. It will be no different from you randomly picking out someone from a crowd and making him king.” In a softer voice, he continued. “I’d feel like an imposter, pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“Well,” Gwen said with forced cheer, “this is only your second day here and all you’ve had are some dusty books that even I wouldn’t read.”

“Are you offering me a more exciting day tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” Plans started to develop in her mind. It wasn’t unsurprising that Camelot was unfamiliar to Arthur, cooped up as he had been in this room for more of the day. Arthur was never one to spend time in the servants’ quarters. When she needed to do was bring him to places he was familiar with, places that meant something.

His voice was husky when he replied. “You know what would be exciting? Spending some time with you, just the two of us.”

Her heart sped up at his words. “Oh,” was all she managed to say, “like now?”

“Just the two of us,” he murmured, “without thoughts of the past or the future.” Then his fingers brushed against her cheek before burying them in her hair, gently massaging the back of her neck, sending shivers down her body. He was going to kiss her and she knew she was going to let him. Arthur may not remember his past, may not even want to be king but at least they still had this - this physical attraction they couldn’t seem to ignore once they realised it that morning in her house all those years ago.

His kiss was a question at first, as if he was asking for permission. Her reply was to lean into him and slide her tongue across his lips, urging them open. Nice. Gently but firmly, he eased her out of her chair, pulled her flush against him and deepened the kiss. The familiarity of his taste and his smell stirred her emotions and she closed her eyes, trying to stem the tears she felt forming. All the stress that had been accumulating in her since morning left her at the touch of his lips against hers. When his lips left hers, marking a path to her neck then to her shoulder, she relaxed and let herself sink fully into his arms.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her collarbone. Her hands instinctively moved to his shirt, slipping under it, running over his chest. She pressed closer, wanting the security of knowing he still desired her. His teeth nipped against her neck, his hands sliding up her side until they came to her breasts.

He stilled, lifting his head so his eyes met hers, the question clear in them.

“Yes,” she whispered. It was foolish, too soon and her head told her that it was more physical than anything on Arthur’s side but she was tired and for one night, she wanted to pretend that her life wasn’t derailed all those months ago.

He picked her up, the same way he used to before, and carried her to bed, laying her down almost reverently. For a while, he simply stood at the side of the bed, staring down at her. His eyes were dark and Gwen worried that he might have changed his mind. She reached for him and he went to her willingly, his mouth descending on hers as he said her name.

+

Thankful she hadn’t ran into anyone on her way back to her chambers, Gwen nodded at Sir Brom, hoping that with the dimming lights, he couldn’t see her clearly. Darting into her chambers, she stopped, allowing herself some time to catch her breath.

Guilt, doubt and fear plagued her. The sex had been good, great even. The familiarity of Arthur’s body and taste both arousing and comforting. Only, at the end, Arthur had called her Gwen - not Guinevere like he always did - and that illusion she’d built in her head shattered.

“You look like you’ve been in a tournament.”

Gwen screamed.

The door was flung open and Sir Brom rushed in, sword drawn. “Your majesty! Is everything alright?”

“Why didn’t you tell me Merlin was waiting inside?”

“I wanted to but you rushed in before I could, my lady. I’m sorry.” He bowed deeply.

“It’s fine. You can leave.” The moment Sir Brom left the room, she turned to Merlin, hands on her hip. “You scared me! You can’t just sneak into my chambers like that.”

“Did you just come from Arthur’s room?” Merlin asked, eyes narrowed.

“That is none of your business.” Looking at herself in the mirror, she realised with a sinking heart that the fact that she’d just had sex with Arthur was written all over her messy hair, her swollen lips and the red mark on her neck. She would have to wear something with a high collar tomorrow.

“It is if Arthur isn’t who you think it is.”

The brush in her hand fell with clatter to the floor. “What do you mean?” she asked, looking at Merlin through the mirror.

“I went to the Crystal Cave today.”

“I know that.”

“There has been no prophecy of Arthur’s return. The druids there know nothing of Arthur returning to the living.”

Picking up the brush gave her time to think. “You said the crystals weren’t always the most trustworthy,” she said carefully.

“The crystals don’t always tell the whole story but they don’t lie. Arthur shouldn’t be alive.”

Her hand gripped the brush. “What are you saying Merlin? Just because your magic didn’t know Arthur is alive doesn’t mean he isn’t Arthur.”

“Gwen -”

“What have I done?” She stumbled to her bed and sat at the edge, feeling it sink when Merlin sat next to her. “No. You’re wrong.”

“I know that you’re still raw from losing -”

“Don’t patronise me Merlin. I may not have magic but Arthur was - is my husband and he is Arthur." The breath she took calmed her a little but her mind still spun with thoughts. She needed to be alone. "If you don’t mind, I had a long day and I would like to rest.”

Merlin looked like he was about to say something but shook his head instead. “Just be careful, Gwen. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

“Good night Merlin.”

Once the door shut quietly, she crawled into bed and buried her face in her pillow. Doubts plagued her you’ve used this construction before - had she just made love to an imposter, someone who meant harm to her and her kingdom? Even if Arthur meant no harm, he obviously wasn’t the husband she had loved so. As these dark thoughts running through her head, she fell into an uncomfortable sleep.

+

Morning brought with it renewed determination. She knew deep in her bones this was Arthur - she could feel it in his touch, see it in his eyes and she just had to get him to remember who he was. Then she would show Merlin that this was really Arthur and not some conjured up spirit Merlin seemed convinced he was.

“A picnic,” said Merlin blandly as he reached for an apple. “You want me to arrange a picnic for you and him.”

As usual, she sat in her chambers eating breakfast with Merlin although the events of the night before meant that the atmosphere was slightly strained.

“I would like that, please. I know that, as Court Sorcerer, such duties -”

He waved a hand. “It’s not about the duties. It’s about the fact that you want to go on a picnic with him.”

“I don’t see any harm in it.”

“I can’t let you go alone,” he said, the apple forgotten. “What are you trying to do?”

“I really didn’t expect you to. Also,” she smiled, ignoring the warning in Merlin’s tone, “it won’t be terribly accurate for us to have a picnic without you lurking nearby.”

Gwen watched as Merlin struggled to say something, aware that he probably thought this was a bad idea. Finally, he said, “I don’t like this. You shouldn’t be playing at being husband and wife with him.”

“His name is Arthur,” she said as calmly as she could, pushing out the memories of that night in Arthur’s bed Merlin’s words had conjured up. “And I am going on a picnic with him. I would like you come along.”

That she was speaking to him the same way she spoke to her subjects clearly annoyed Merlin but he just nodded. “Of course my lady.”

“Merlin.” Feeling guilty at her manner, Gwen placed her hand over his. “I know he is Arthur. I can feel it.”

“Maybe it’s the baby. Maybe that’s what you’re feeling."

Her hand immediately flew to her stomach.

“Maybe it’s the baby that’s making you feel this way. I mean, you’re pregnant and this person looks like Arthur, seems to be Arthur and it’s just something you really want.”

She scoffed immediately. “You think I’m making how I feel up?”

“No, I think that perhaps you’re mistaken. The feelings you have for your child being misplaced onto that - Arthur.”

For a moment, Gwen entertained the idea that Merlin was right. It was convenient that Arthur was back now, when she was pregnant and just as conflict started breaking out along the borders. Then she thought of the night before, of how every touch had been familiar and she shook her head firmly. “Let’s make a deal. You continue to look into how and why Arthur is back and you let me try to help him with his memory. And until we have proper answers, we won’t attack each other.”

It took a while but Merlin stuck out his hand in agreement. They finished breakfast relatively amicably, avoiding the topic of Arthur.

The next time she saw Merlin, he was squatting outside Arthur’s room, painting on the floor some strange spiral pattern. When he noticed her, he quickly signalled for her to be quiet. Curious, she squatted next to him.

“What are you doing?”

“Drawing.”

She frowned and bumped him lightly. “I can see that. Why are you drawing on the floor outside Arthur’s room?”

“I need to carry out a test.”

“On Arthur?”

He nodded. Then before she could ask what test he was planning to perform, he stretched out an arm and muttered a spell. The spiral disappeared in front of her eyes, much to her awe. Magic still amazed her.

The door swung open and a bemused Arthur looked down at them. “What is going on?”

Standing, Merlin dusted his hands on his trousers and said, “We were just checking for woodworms.”

“The Queen and her Court Sorcerer are checking for woodworms?” Arthur looked at them suspiciously.

“Gwen is particularly good at woodworm hunting,” said Merlin smoothly.

Arthur caught her eye and she shrugged, trying to stop the memories of their previous night from flooding her brain.

“That’s a good skill to have,” said Arthur.

“Very,” agreed Merlin.

They stood in an awkward triangle of silence until Gwen could bear it no longer.

“Actually, I wanted to invite you on a picnic.” She wanted to walk to him but was unsure if she should walk over Merlin’s circle of magic.

Arthur was surprised, pleasantly so, she realised when a bright smile appeared on his face. “That sounds like a great idea. But wouldn’t it be rather public?”

“Oh we won’t be able to ride out together but you and Merlin will go together and I’ll ride out separately. No one would look twice at Merlin riding with a mysterious, hooded figure.”

Merlin’s lips twitched at that but he said nothing.

“Well,” replied Arthur, “if you’re sure, then I would love to go on a picnic with you.”

Gwen smiled at him, her smile only getting wider when Arthur returned her smile with one that she knew was meant only for her.

“Right, now that that’s settled, we have a town visit to get to and perhaps, Arthur, you’d like to step out of the room for us.” Merlin gestured for him to walk across his now-invisible spiral.

“What?” Arthur's eyes sought hers out and in an attempt to be helpful, she nodded and smiled. That only made the furrow between Arthur's brows deepen. "Is this part of the woodworm hunting?"

"Yes!" "No."

Shooting Gwen a warning glance, Merlin smiled again. Gwen was certain Arthur could see how blatantly false it was. "See, there's a ritual."

"A ritual," repeated Arthur. "For woodworm hunting. Should I even be living in a room with woodworms?"

Ignoring Arthur's questions, Merlin pressed on. "And you know how three is a mystical number."

"No I don't."

It was supposed to be terribly serious but laughter bubbled out of Gwen. Trying to mask it, she covered her mouth and coughed. Both Arthur and Merlin stared at her.

"Well," Merlin continued. "Three is a mystical number and Gwen and I have already crossed the threshold so I just need you to cross it too." When it seemed that Arthur wasn't about to move, Merlin hurriedly said, "please."

"You're ridiculous. You're not even making any sense." Arthur rolled his eyes but walked across the circle of magic anyway. Gwen watched the whole thing with bated breath, wondering if Arthur would burst into flames, glow, or disintegrate even. It was a mix of relief and disappointment that she felt when nothing happened. She glanced at Merlin. Perhaps only he could see the effects of the circle.

His face was blank.

"That's it?" asked Arthur.

"Yes. Thank you for your help."

"Wait, you're not going to explain -"

"Oops. Time is a ticking. We have to go to the village now Gwen." Casting a quick apologetic smile at Arthur, Gwen let Merlin drag her away from him.

"Well?" She whispered once they turned the corner.

Merlin sighed. "Nothing. I guess he's not a shade."

Tamping down the urge to say 'I told you', Gwen simply smiled. "Today looks like a great day for a picnic."

+

Of all her duties as Queen, Gwen loved visiting the various towns around Camelot most. It reminded her of home and family and it was always heartening to see the changes she and Arthur implemented take effect. Despite the wars, the towns within the city walls had been thriving and truth be told, the war and demands for food and weaponry had kept the economy going, especially since it was the towns bordering Camlann which bore most of the destruction. And now, as Camelot funded the repairs of the various towns, things were bustling.

Her arm linked with Merlin, she stopped and spoke with various people, some simply enquiring on her well-being while others telling her about their grouses and unhappiness. Beside her, Sir Brom conscientiously took notes.

After Mary, the resident grouch, finished her litany of complaints ranging from the weather to her disapproval of young children running around in the mud, Merlin squeezed Gwen’s arm. “I don’t know how you bear her. Nothing is ever right with the world.”

“She just wants someone to talk to,” said Gwen, remembering when her father would send her over to Mary to help her with her chores. “After her husband died, she’s been all alone. Although admittedly, she used to grumble about everything even when I was a child.”

They walked on, occasionally stopping so Gwen could pick up a bolt of cloth or a piece of freshly baked bread. The route they took was the same every time and eventually they came to Gwen’s old home.

She hadn’t been inside since Arthur’s death, unwilling to face the memories within. It was bad enough that she had to live in the castle, a place in which Arthur was imprinted in every wall and corner, but at least there, he had been both King and husband. In her small home, he had been just her husband. It had been their sanctuary, unintentionally created when their attempts at intimacy were interrupted three times in a night and she had jokingly suggested they go to her home in the middle town for some privacy.

“Do you want to go in?” Merlin asked, his eyes searching her face, when, she hesitated by the door.

Slowly, Gwen walked up the dusty path and pushed the door open. Four months and everything still looked the same - the bed Arthur had insisted they put in when he refused to sleep on ‘that hard rock she called a bed’, the little kitchen with, ironically, royal plates, the well-worn table where she once compared Arthur to a pig.

There were fresh flowers in a vase on the table. Purple wildflowers, the kind Merlin used to pick for them.

Merlin shrugged when she turned to look at him. “I thought that if one day, you were to return, it would be nice to see fresh flowers.”

“Oh Merlin," she said, kissing his cheek gently, chuckling when she saw the spreading blush. She sat down, emotions suddenly welling in her. Merlin sat with her.

“Arthur’s isn’t a shade,” he said after a while. “Which means he is really alive.”

“You believe he’s Arthur now?” Gwen couldn’t keep the hope from her voice.

“No. I don’t know. I believe he is human.”

Gwen stretched her legs out, rubbing her thighs. She wasn’t sure if she was simply doing too much or if it was because of the baby but her body got tired easily recently. “He’s Arthur.”

“I know you want to believe that, and maybe he is. But we still don’t know why he is back and who brought him back. And that worries me.” Merlin looked intently at her. “Surely you can understand that.”

She could, only she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to know why Arthur was back. She didn’t want to know what the Old Religion was planning. She just wanted him to regain his memory and be her Arthur. She wanted her old life back, the happiness she’d managed to build within it, not this empty shell of a life.

“Why do they have to meddle? Why can’t they leave us to live our lives?”

Merlin didn’t answer, only put his arm around her and held her. Laying her head on his shoulder, she closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry.

+

Merlin and Arthur were talking quietly when she finally arrived in the forest. It was almost summer and all the flowers were in bloom, scenting the air with their sweet fragrance. As she approached, walking across the stream, Arthur jumped up immediately, reaching out a hand to help her across the rocks.

Her heart squeezed, the memory of a similar scene playing in her mind. But she dug out a smile for Arthur. As she stepped off the last rock, his lips brushed against her ear. “You look lovely.” The feel of his breath against her face, his warmth next to her, his scent filling her nose sent a shockingly strong arrow of desire through her.

He moved his lips from her ear to her lips, brushing a barely there kiss against them.

Merlin cleared his throat.

“Merlin,” she acknowledged.

“Cook wasn’t very cooperative but Amber helped, sneaking out a really juicy roast chicken.”

Laughing, Gwen shook her head. “All these years and Cook still dislikes you.”

“Dislike is far too mild a word really,” said Merlin. “And it’s all unwarranted.”

Arthur was still holding her hand and she let him lead her to the mat where a spread was laid out. Despite Merlin’s disapproval, she realised he had done a wonderful job recreating the picnics the three of them often went on. Her eyes moved to Arthur’s face, wondering if this seemed familiar to him. But he was preoccupied with fussing with the pillows.

“I was just telling Merlin that you royals really know how to picnic. Picnics with Amber usually just involved a mat and some dried bread.”

“I had those picnics too when I was younger but you always preferred a certain level of luxury,” she smiled, remembering when Arthur would sulk when Merlin forgot the pillows or the wine. She had once pointed out to him that he was perfectly capable of sleeping in the forest with nothing during his quests, he had told her quite seriously that it was different.

Arthur shook his head. “I am so spoiled.”

“That you are,” replied Gwen. “Good thing you’re King. There are no shortage of people willing to spoil you.”

He arched an eyebrow, then looked pointedly at Merlin. “Except Merlin, I imagine.”

“You didn’t need a bigger head than the one you were born with,” said Merlin, “or your fancy helmets wouldn’t fit.”

Arthur merely laughed in response, then turned his attention back to her. “I hope I spoiled you a lot too.”

The soft look in his eyes, the one that told her how much he enjoyed their activities the night before, made her shiver. “In your own way,” she said, cursing at how husky her voice sounded. Arthur’s lips quirked.

“Here, have some grapes.” Merlin shoved the bowl of grapes between them and the tension broke.

The chicken was delicious, as it always was and Gwen bit down a smile when she noticed Merlin automatically handing Arthur the thigh. Arthur picked the meat off the bone before eating, unlike Merlin who bit into the chicken. There was so much familiarity in everybody’s actions that Gwen couldn’t imagine that Arthur wouldn’t remember anything.

Gwen lounged on the pillows, enjoying the brief break from the politics of the court and the little touches and smiles Arthur bestowed on her. Her stomach full, she was on the cusp of sleep when she heard Merlin’s question.

Merlin spoke again, interrupting the silence. “So you still can’t remember anything?”

With a mouthful of chicken, Arthur shook his head.

“No twinges of familiarity or anything?”

“No, not really.”

Gwen could feel Arthur’s eyes on her and looked away. The regret in his tone was enough to break her heart. She didn’t need to see the sympathy in his eyes as well. A picnic wasn’t anything special. Of course it wasn’t enough to trigger any memories.

Unwillingly to think about how Arthur still didn’t have his memories back, she said, “He’ll remember when he remembers. Now, what do we have for dessert?”

+

Gwen appreciated the days when there were no council meetings so when she found Hector outside her door on one of those rare days, her dislike for him doubled.

“Lord Hector,” she greeted politely, hoping that if she walked past him quickly enough, he’d leave her alone.

Immediately, he fell into step with her. “My lady,” he started, stopping when Gwen held up a hand.

“Is this important? I have a meeting with the village representatives.”

Hector scoffed. “I am sure they can wait a while for their Queen.”

Realising Hector wasn’t about to leave her alone, Gwen sighed. “Let’s walk and talk. What is it you have to say that is so important it can’t wait for tomorrow’s meeting?”

“I have received news that Lady Joan’s army is planning to move into Lord Edward’s border towns some time next week.”

That stopped Gwen in her tracks. She turned to face Hector, watching his face for any signs that he might be lying. “How do you know that? Percival is in charge of information here and he hasn’t mentioned anything.”

“I have my sources.”

Gwen glared at him, unsure if she should trust him. Hector had something up his sleeve but she wasn’t quite sure exactly what it was. “Thank you for the information. I will have Percival look into it. Perhaps your sources are mistaken.”

Hector smiled insincerely. “Of course. By the way, have you thought about King Lester’s proposal?”

“With all the conflicts building, I don’t think this is the time to think about marriage.” Gwen started walking again, hoping to shake Hector off. Being in his company made her nausea, something she hadn’t experienced in a while, return.

“I think this is the perfect time.” There was a hardness in Hector’s voice. “With King Lester’s support, you will be able to quell the conflict between Lord Edward and Lady Joan easily. Lord Edward shares a border with King Lester. He wouldn’t want to cross him.”

Now, Gwen knew exactly what Hector had up his sleeves. “Are you telling me that King Lester will only intervene in a conflict at his doorstep if I marry his son?”

“Of course not. I’m just saying that it would be useful to have an ally like King Lester.”

“Your point is taken, Sir Hector. And now I have a meeting to get to.” She picked up her pace and was glad that Hector didn’t walk after her. All she had to do was delay giving an answer to the proposal, Arthur would regain his memory and all this would go away.

+

His hand was warm and solid in hers.

The last time Gwen had ventured down here had been when Arthur was still alive and Uther barely dead. Then, she’d stood next to Arthur, offering her strength as he stared at Uther’s tomb. They had been there for what seemed like hours until Arthur suddenly turned to her and said he was done.

And although she never visited Uther’s tomb after that, she knew that Arthur went regularly alone. She never asked about his visits and he never spoke about them.

“So this is my father.” The slightly curious tone that lacked any emotion coming out of Arthur’s mouth unnerved Gwen at first. “I suppose I see the resemblance.”

“You loved him very much.”

Arthur laughed at that. “I put aside a whole room and made a statue of him. I would think so.” Then he paused and looked around the mausoleum. “Where’s my mother?”

“She died when you were born.”

“In childbirth?”

Gwen nodded, her hand tightening around his.

“But you knew my father,” he continued, staring down at Uther’s marble likeness.

Again, she nodded, surprised when Arthur suddenly turned away, tugging her with him as he walked out of the room. He said nothing as he walked down the now empty corridors of the castle until he came to his room. With a tilt of his head, he silently invited her in.

She hadn’t been inside since that night.

“Tell me about my father,” he said quietly and she was unable to turn him down.

His room was small, sparsely furnished but after four days, already looked lived in by him. She couldn’t help her smile when she noticed the pile of worn clothes on the floor that he tried to hide by shoving it beside the bed with his foot.

Sitting on his bed seemed far too intimate so she settled into an uncomfortable chair. “What do you want to know?”

He shrugged. “What he was like. Was he a good king? He must have been.”

Her Arthur had loved and looked up to Uther so much, even when faced with Uther’s weakness and failings, had craved Uther’s approval and love even after Uther’s death. What did she tell him?

“He,” she said slowly, “had his strengths.”

“You didn’t like him.”

“He did what he had to do as King,” Gwen continued, ignoring the stare Arthur was giving her. “And for most of his life, Camelot did well.”

“Did he like you?”

Startled by the question, Gwen shook her head. “He thought I wasn’t good enough for you.”

Arthur’s eyes hardened and his lips pressed together in a straight line, disapproval clear in his stance. But his tone was pleasant when he finally spoke. “How was your day today? Merlin mentioned a council meeting you were dreading?”

The change in topic took her by surprise. “I dread all council meetings these days,” she sighed. “Conflict among the Albion kingdoms, especially the smaller ones, is rising and I fear this will only beget more conflict.” She looked at him. “The other kingdoms think we are weakened by your death.”

“But we’re not,” he said.

She smiled slightly. “We?”

“We have you as a Queen and from what I hear, you love Camelot with all your heart. And you’re smart and strong, I am sure you will lead Camelot and Albion through this.”

Tears pricked the back of her eyes at his words. “I wish I had as much faith in myself as you do in me. Sometimes, I ask myself the same thing they ask me - who am I to be Queen? Just 5 years ago, I was a mere servant.”

Arthur’s hand cupped her face, his thumb rubbing her cheek, the same way he always did to comfort her. “I may not remember my life before, but if I were king and I chose you, out of all the nobles and royalty Albion has to offer, then you must have been more than a mere servant.” He grinned then. “After all, I was a brilliant king wasn’t I? And I wouldn’t have made a bad choice.”

His bravado amused her, bringing her back to the days of Arthur being puffed up with confidence, a mask he wore often and well. Without thinking, she turned her face and pressed a kiss in his palm. He stiffened at her touch and she quickly pulled back. Both of them had, by silent agreement, never spoke of that warm night they spent together.

“Do you want to hear more about your father?” She asked. When had Uther become a neutral subject, she wondered.

“No.”

“But -”

“He hated you. I know all I need to know about him as a father from that. And,” he said quietly, leaning forward towards her, his fingers threading into her hair, loosening the bun she had, “you are trying to avoid this.”

She swallowed. “What?”

“Us,” he said. “I want to kiss you again.”

Heat pooled in her. She had never wanted anything more. Yet she shook her head. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

With his fingers gently massaging her scalp and his blue eyes, darkened with desire, boring into hers, Gwen could barely get her brains to work. “It’s a bad idea.”

A smile curved his lips. “And why is it a bad idea? I thought it was a very good idea the last time.”

“I –“

He kissed her, swallowing whatever she had to say. Abandoning whatever misgivings she had, ignoring Merlin’s warnings that all might not be as they seemed, she let herself sink into Arthur’s kiss.

“Do you want me to stop,” he asked as they broke for breath.

In answer, she cupped his face and pulled it to hers.

+

Smiling at Merlin, Gwen surreptitiously took the plate of pickled eggs he offered her. One moment she couldn’t keep anything down and the next, she had craving for pickled eggs, something she never much liked before.

Lord Hector stood and Gwen sighed inwardly. The council meeting had been going well thus far with no new conflicts being reported, positive reports about the rebuilding of the villages near Camlann and predictions that the upcoming harvest may be a bountiful one but one look at Hector’s face and she knew the meeting was about to go downhill.

“We’ve extended an invitation to King Lester to visit Camelot sometime next week. He will be bringing his son.”

Shock rendered her speechless for a moment. “You invited King Lester here behind my back?” Gwen asked slowly, unable to believe the temerity of these men in front of her.

“He is a valuable ally -”

“Don’t give me that,” she snapped. “Don’t think I don’t know what you are trying to do Hector. You and your friends think that this is going to push me into a political marriage with his son.”

Calmly, Hector stood. “I merely think it’s a good idea that you meet personally with King Lester and Prince Reynard. Perhaps it will help you realise that marrying Prince Reynard is a good idea. I hear he is a good man.”

“You have no right to interfere in my personal life.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Leon move and she knew that all she had to do was to incline her head and Hector would be thrown out of the council room.

Hector scoffed. “As Queen, you’re not entitled to a personal life. And frankly, you can do better than that mystery man you’ve been visiting.”

Merlin stilled beside her. Her own heart stopped.

“Nothing to say my lady?” asked Hector, a smug smile on his face. “If it’s a warm body you need, I’m sure Prince Reynard will be adequate.”

“I know that your family has long been on the council and it is your family’s contributions to Camelot that you have to thank for the fact that I am not kicking you off the council.” Gwen glared at Hector before turning back to address the rest of the council coldly. “When something is up for discussion, I will bring it up during council. My personal life is not up for discussion. We will host King Lester because I don’t want it to seem to others that we are not united. I don’t need to give the other kingdoms more reason to believe we are weaker without Arthur.”

The rest of the council looked at her in silence, most of their faces blank. Hector refused to look at her. Anger still churning in her, she stormed out of the room, Merlin and Percival just a step behind her.

“Sir Brom.” Gwen stopped at her door to address the young knight who stood outside. He bowed. “I need to speak to you.”

The colour drained from his face and Gwen knew her suspicions were right.

“Your highness,” he started once she gestured him into her chambers and shut the door behind her, the guilt on his face clear.

“Do you know what I want to talk to you about?” Despite her ire, she tempered her voice.

Sir Brom nodded, his eyes darting to a very unhappy Percival.

Gwen slowly lowered herself onto her chair, never taking her eyes off Sir Brom. “Who did you tell? And what did you tell them?”

“I just said that you’d been visiting someone secretly over the past few days. It just came out of me, over drinks with some of the other knights. I didn’t mean to.” Sir Brom looked utterly miserable. “I understand if you feel that you need to remove me from -”

Gwen raised her hand, stopping him. “No. Percival will see that you make up for your slip but you will remain as my guard in the castle. You’re young and I believe you will learn from this.”

“Thank you,” said Sir Brom bowing low. “Thank you.”

She looked at Percival who nodded, then left with a visibly shaken Sir Brom. Her head fell into her hands and she groaned at the mess she created. She felt Merlin put an arm around her and rub her shoulder.

“It’ll be fine,” he murmured, except she knew he didn’t mean it at all.

“Hector is going to make sure news of my mystery man leaks to the people, if only to undermine me and force me into a corner,” she said into her hands. “I should have known he would pull something like this to force me into the marriage.”

“You don’t have to -”

She raised her head and looked up at Merlin. “Are you sure you can’t brainwash them all?”

Merlin smiled reluctantly. “I could. Might take a while. I can’t believe you didn’t simply sentence Hector to the stocks for impertinence.”

A tired smile crossed her face. “You know that rule has been changed. It’s jail for impertinence now. And I haven’t kicked Hector off the council because I like to keep my enemies close.”

Merlin nodded in approval. “Be careful.”

Rubbing the back of her neck, trying to ease the stiffness that had taken up residence, she sighed. “What do I do now?”

“You’ll be the ever gracious host to King Lester and his son. Hold the usual tournament, present a lavish feast, then firmly but kindly say no. Unless, of course -” Merlin looked meaningfully at her. She shook her head. Even if Arthur hadn’t returned, she had no intention of marrying again.

“You make it sound so simple.”

Merlin walked to the window, looked out, then walked back to where Gwen sat, a sad smile on his face. “Being on the throne is never simple.”

+

It seemed that bad things never happened in isolation.

A few days later, rumours of Gwen’s pregnancy swept through the castle. Her first inkling that something was going on was when two young maids huddled in a corner, whispering and glancing at her stomach.

“They are saying that you are pregnant,” said Leon, his eyes darting between Merlin and Gwen. “That – that’s not true, is it?”

“Who is saying all these?” demanded Merlin.

“The servants. Something about pickled eggs.” Leon looked slightly uncomfortable. “They say you’ve been requesting pickled eggs.”

Gwen rubbed her temple.

“Everyone likes pickled eggs,” muttered Merlin mutinously.

“Except me,” sighed Gwen.

Merlin scowled. “What is with all these people and their big mouths? If Camelot falls one day, it’ll be because people can’t keep their mouths shut.”

“Has the council gotten wind of this?” she asked.

Leon nodded regretfully. “I heard some of them talking about it. And with the talk of the mystery man -”

“Hector is going to use this to his advantage,” said Gwen as various scenarios, each one worse than the one before it, flashed through her mind.

And true to her words, Hector waylaid her just as she returned from a visit to the lower town.

There was a gleam in his eyes as he studied her, his eyes lingering on her stomach. She resisted the urge to cover her stomach with her hands, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he unnerved her.

“I hear congratulations are in order.” The smile he gave her was predatory and she shivered.

“I believe I made it quite clear that my personal life is not up for discussion.”

Hector bowed his head. "Of course, my lady." Then with another insincere smile, he went on his way, leaving a very troubled Gwen in his wake.

"Your majesty," a voice came from her side and Gwen turned quickly to see a wide-eyed Amber, who had clearly been eavesdropping.

"Why, hello Amber," said Gwen, trying not to let her anger seep into her voice. "How have you been?"

"Good. Do you have good news?" Amber looked at her with anticipation, her fingers curled around the edges of her apron. "I heard that man congratulate you."

Gwen shook her head. "I don't. He was mistaken."

"Oh." She thought for a while, then beamed up at Gwen. "I'm going to see Kay. Do you want to come?"

Gwen smiled at the thought of Arthur, then she remembered the letters and petitions she needed to deal with, ones she put off to have breakfast with him early that morning. "I can't. Tell him I said hi."

"Alright!" Amber waved then scampered off in the direction of Arthur's room. Gwen caught sight of a bit of bread in Amber's hand, clearly swiped from the kitchens and smiled. Amber must have taken it for Arthur and she remembered how Arthur would save sweets from his dinner for her. Her heart contracted as she thought of Arthur as a father to the child growing in her.

Then it hit her.

If rumours were going round that she was pregnant, then Arthur was going to hear of them sooner or later.

+

After dinner, Gwen took a walk in the castle gardens, knowing that Arthur was likely to be lurking in the darkness, grabbing whatever freedom he could. The heavy scent of flowers filled her nose as she walked gingerly on the damp grass, breathing in the fresh night air, allowing herself the brief moment of pretending she was Queen and thought back to her carefree days as a servant. She smiled sadly, wondering when she started thinking life as a servant was better. Above her, the stars twinkled.

“You look tense.” Arthur’s voice floated to her and she turned to see him leaning casually against a low wall, arms crossed. “Bad meeting?”

“I haven’t had a good one in months.”

Pushing himself off the wall, he made his way towards her, his every step increasing the pounding of her heart. Without a word, he pulled her into a hug, tucking her head under his chin. “Want to talk about it?”

She shook her head, then buried it further into his neck, greedily inhaling his scent, winding her arms around his waist. If only she could be like this forever, safe in his arms, nary a care in the world. When she felt his lips press against the top of her head and his arms gathering her closer, she blurted everything out. Almost everything.

He pulled away slightly to look at her. “Marriage. To Prince Reynard. That’s their solution to the conflicts plaguing Albion?”

“King Lester is very influential.”

Arthur let go of her and she shivered, whether because of the cool night air or the loss of his warmth, she wasn’t sure. He walked away, his hand running roughly through his hair. “Are you seriously considering marrying Prince Reynard?”

“It is a possible solution -”

“It’s a bad solution. Unless -” Arthur moved quickly to her again, grasping her upper arms. “Unless you love him.”

She shook her head, taken aback by Arthur’s actions. “No, of course not.”

His hold relaxed slightly. For a while, he simply regarded her and she grew increasingly uncomfortable under his scrutiny. She wished the moon was brighter so she could see his expression better but in the darkness, his thoughts remained unreadable.

“What do you plan to do?” he finally asked.

“I wish I knew.” A small voice in her head nagged at her to tell Arthur everything. "There's something else."

"Oh?" He looked curiously at her.

"Maybe we should sit down." Moving out of his arms, she took his hand instead and pulled him to where a bench stood. When she sat, Arthur settled down next to her, his arm coming round her shoulder to tuck her into his side.

Gwen looked down at her hands in her lap. Unlike many royalties, her hands were rough from the work she did as a servant. She clasped, then unclasped them until Arthur's much larger hand covered hers.

"You said you had something else to tell me?"

How many times had she rehearsed this? And now, the script she'd prepared earlier had fled her head.

His thumb rubbed the back of her hand gently, but he didn't push. "Amber was very excited about being allowed to work in laundry today. I think she's a little tired of being yelled at by Cook."

Gwen forced a smile. "Cook yells at everyone, even Merlin. But she likes Amber, says she's a responsible girl."

She felt more than saw Arthur's smile. "Amber is a great girl."

"You are very fond of her."

"As she says, she was my first friend in Helb. She was the only one who didn't think I was lying about my memory loss or peppered me with questions. She just accepted me as I was."

"Children tend to be like that," said Gwen. She had to tell him. "Do you think you would want a child of your own?"

He seemed startled by the question and didn't answer immediately. "I - well, I suppose I wouldn't mind." Teasingly he asked, "Do you want to practise?"

"Arthur!" But she smiled at his words, remembering the nights they spent together.

She felt his laugh vibrate against her side.

"Arthur," she said again, more seriously. "I'm pregnant."

He stilled against her. "Say that again," he breathed.

"I'm pregnant."

A breath whooshed out of him and his hand left hers. "Wow. I don't know what to say."

That, Gwen supposed, was better than outright rejection of the news. Yet she couldn't help but be disappointed that he wasn't thrilled.

"I assume the child is mine," he said, slight awe in his voice.

She nodded, still feeling down at his lack of excitement.

"Wow," he said again. "This changes things, doesn't it?"

Her fingers curled into her palm, her nails pressing into the soft flesh. "Yes, I guess it does. For you, especially."

"Does this prince, the one you're supposed to marry, know you're pregnant?"

Gwen frowned, slightly annoyed at Arthur suggesting she would marry Prince Reynard. "I'm not marrying him and no, I haven't made a formal announcement yet."

Arthur nodded but offered nothing else. Tilting his head to the sky, he let it rest against the back of the bench. Aside from the constant sounds from the crickets, only their breathing could be heard in the gardens. Gwen closed her eyes, trying to not imagine the worst.

“It would seem that I have little choice but to return,” Arthur finally said, completely void of emotion.

For the first time, Gwen felt something other than worry or fear. “You’ll return?”

“I’ll return,” he repeated. “I’ll come back as King. I may not be ready to be king, but I want to be a father. To our child.” He smiled suddenly. “Our child.”

“You’re going to be king, just to be a father to our child?”

His hand grasped hers, their fingers twinning. “I’ve been in Camelot for 4 days. Four days during which I had to sneak around, hide in my room, dart behind pillars and into alcoves. I can’t continue like this. I realised yesterday, I need to either commit to my old life or leave it completely behind and start a new one. And I wasn’t sure but now, knowing you have my child growing in you – I know what I have to do.”

Gwen felt like she was underwater, her ears blocked by rushing noise and her lungs unable to drag in the breath she needed. “And you’re sure.” The tremulous voice sounded nothing like hers.

The arm he had around her shoulder tightened. Then slowly, inexorably, his lips came down on hers. The kiss was brief, light but she felt it all the way to her toes.

“Does that answer your question?”

Her fingers walked up his chest, tracing the edge of his collar. “For our child?”

“And for you,” he said hoarsely. “There’s something about you Gwen. I could easily fall in love with you.”

Shrugging off the reminder that he didn’t love her yet, she lifted her head up and kissed him - a longer, deeper, much more satisfying kiss.

They stumbled into her chambers, bodies wrapped around each other, ignoring the poorly disguised shock on Sir Brom’s face. If she was going to announce Arthur’s return soon, it didn’t really matter who saw them tonight.

It was her who pushed him onto her bed, laughing as he sank into the multitude of pillows and cushions that were strewn on it. His hand was still holding hers and he pulled so she toppled onto him, burying her face into his neck and pressing small kisses along the bare skin.

There was so much to talk about, but for now, Gwen simply wanted, craved even, his touch, his affection and his need. He seemed to understand, allowing her to take control and when finally, her skin and hair damp with sweat, she collapsed sated onto his bare chest, Arthur threaded his fingers in his hair, cradling her gently while whispering her name.

“Call me Guinevere,” she said against his shoulder.

“Why?” Arthur chuckled, pulling back to look at her. His finger followed a line down her cheek to her shoulder. “Guinevere is such a fancy name. I think you’ll always be Gwen to me.”

She dropped her head to his shoulder again, not wanting Arthur to see how his answer affected her. There was more to Arthur’s decision than how he addressed her.

+

From the stiffness in his stance and the frown on his face, Gwen could tell Merlin thought the whole thing was a bad idea.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do? There can be no turning back.”

She felt Arthur’s hold on her hand tighten. “I know that. Just because I don’t have my memories doesn’t mean I am a fool. I know it’s not going to be easy and yes, I’m afraid but I would never turn back on a commitment.”

“You said he wasn’t a shade,” she pointed out. “That he’s human. What is the problem now?”

Arthur frowned down at her. “You thought I wasn’t human?”

“We had to be sure. People have returned before - not fully human.” Merlin started to pace. “I cannot, for the life of me, understand why you are back.”

Arthur’s hand let go of hers. “If the most powerful warlock in Albion doesn’t know, then how would I? No one left me a note explaining why I came back to life.”

With a groan, Merlin paced faster.

“Stop it! You’re going to give me a headache. Look, for some reason I’m alive. I have no idea how or why.”

“I thought it was to fulfil your destiny but if so, your return would have been foretold. Your return is an anomaly.”

“I don’t know,” snapped Arthur. “And what does it matter?”

Merlin ignored Arthur and turned back to Gwen. “Have you really thought this through? Do you think the council is simply going to accept Arthur’s return? Do you think Hector will?”

“I’m not a fool,” Gwen bit out. “I know it’s not that simple.”

Finally, Merlin stopped moving. “Hector will not be pleased. He has plans and Arthur’s return is going to destroy them.”

“Then he will just have to deal with that,” said Gwen with more confidence than she had.

“What about his memory?” asked Merlin. “He still doesn’t remember anything. Do you?”

Arthur shook his head.

Merlin frowned. “I need to speak to Gwen alone,” he said, looking at Arthur.

Gwen could tell Arthur wasn’t happy but he said nothing and left her chambers. The moment the door closed behind Arthur, Gwen turned to Merlin. “What is it?”

“I can understand you wanting Arthur to return and I know it seems like he is Arthur but we can’t just plunge into this.”

“We’ve established he is human,” said Gwen. “And so far, he’s done nothing to suggest he’s here to destroy Camelot. And I know you’ve been watching him. What does he have to do to prove that he’s Arthur?”

Merlin had the decency to look a little shamefaced at her words but it didn’t last long. “As I said before, it’s not him that I’m worried about. It’s the forces behind his return. If the Triple Goddess returned him to the world, it is not without an agenda.”

“Perhaps he is returned to fulfil his destiny?” Gwen suggested.

Merlin choked out a bitter laugh. “I need to pay the Triple Goddess a visit. Don’t do anything till then. Promise me.”

The seriousness in his tone made Gwen nod. “I promise.”

+

It was somewhat ironic that Arthur, once very reluctant to take the throne, was now itching to do so.

“Wait for Merlin?”

They were in his room, Gwen seated on the bed while Arthur stared out of the window, probably at Merlin preparing to ride out to see the Triple Goddess.

“I promised him,” said Gwen. “And, it’s not that I don’t trust you, but with magic, it’s best to be careful.”

The muscle in his jaw worked. “What happens if Merlin returns and tells you that I was sent back for nefarious purposes? Are you going to have me killed?”

“It’s not going to happen.” Standing, she went to Arthur and placed her hand on his cheek. “Merlin just wants to be sure, but I know in my heart that you are Arthur, the King of Camelot and my husband.”

The anger in his eyes faded, replaced by uncertainty and doubt. Gently, he took her hand. “What if I’m not? What If I’m not Arthur?” His hold on her tightened and his voice dropped. “I don’t know if I can walk away from you now.”

She blinked up at him, sudden tears threatening at his words. “You are Arthur.”

“I want to be,” he said. He dipped his head and kissed her but this time, there was a hint of desperation in his kiss, reminding Gwen of the night before Camlann. Trying to ignore the dread that curled in her stomach, she threw herself into the kiss, pushing him back until he fell onto his bed with her.

+

"The first thing that I would like to address –“

“I’m sorry my lady, but I feel that with recent developments, it might be more pertinent that we discuss your situation.” It wasn’t Hector who spoke but one of his close friends.

Her heart sped up but she kept her face expressionless. “My situation?” The smile she gave Hector’s friend was cold and she watched with some satisfaction when he withdrew.

“You have news to announce I believe?” said Hector.

Part of her wanted to deny Hector’s words but she knew in doing so, Hector would take charge of the whole situation. “I do, in fact,” she said as calmly as she could. “I’m pleased to announce that I am with child.”

Immediately the room erupted into chaos. While she heard a few shouts of congratulations, she noted that most of the council seemed confused or upset with the news. She had expected it but it still hurt. Announcing a child should be a joyous occasion, not one marred with power struggle and politics.

She nodded at Percival who immediately called the meeting to order.

“My lady,” another elderly council member said after everyone had quietened down, “I do not mean to be rude but are you certain the child is Arthur’s and not the man you have been visiting?”

“I am,” she said, desperately wanting to tack on the fact that this man she was visiting was really Arthur.

“How can you be sure?” asked another council member.

“That,” said Gwen, “is none of your business. The only reason you need to know about my child is because he or she will be heir to the throne.”

Hector spoke again. “I feel that in this situation, it is even more imperative that you accept King Lester’s proposal. Bringing up a child alone is not an easy matter. I am sure Prince Reynard would be a good father.”

“Prince Reynard might be a perfect father but I am still not marrying him.”

“In light of new developments between Lord Edward and Lady Joan, I would suggest that you reconsider, my lady.” Hector’s show of fake concern grated at Gwen but she still managed a smile. That seemed to encourage him and he continued. “As Percival will explain in more details, Lady Joan’s army is growing and there are rumours that she might use magic. Lord Edward will not take Lady Joan’s threat sitting down. I suspect we’re heading towards war.”

“Is that true Percival?”

He nodded regretfully. “It would seem so. Lady Joan seems determined to retake land she feels was taken from her in the peace agreement.”

“She signed the peace agreement! And she was more than adequately compensated for the land.” But Gwen knew. With Arthur gone, these kingdoms were going to push their boundaries and test her. “Leon, send an army of knights to the border. Don’t interfere - hopefully, our banner will be sufficient to make them think twice. I want them issued invites to Camelot and both Edward and Joan escorted back here.”

“I fear that getting our army involved will only make matters worse,” said Hector.

“They need to know that Camelot will not stand by idly while they create conflict in Albion. But I have no intention of waging war with either fiefdom.” She looked at Leon. “Ensure they arrive around the same time that King Lester does. It would be the perfect time for a renegotiation of the peace deal.”

She watched as Hector’s eyes gleamed. He was planning something, but he was missing a piece of key information – Arthur was back.

+

“Almost all the names you mentioned flew right over my head,” said Arthur wryly as he sprawled on their bed. He languidly traced intricate patterns along the exposed skin on her arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps behind.

“I know it's a lot but you have to know this by the time they all arrive in Camelot.” She knew she sounded a little impatient but Arthur had spent most of the morning flirting with her and trying to get her to abandon the books and snuggle with him instead.

Responding to her curtness, he withdrew his hand. "I said I'd look at it when you're not around. It's not like I have much to do in those hours."

She groaned. "I wish there was some way to just get your memory back."

"I do too." He reached for her again, as if he couldn't stop touching her. This time, his fingers wrapped around some of her curls that had come out of her bun, twirling and tugging at them. "Why is Merlin taking so long?"

"I wish I knew. I'm tired of the council pressurising me to marry Prince Reynard. Hector has somehow managed to persuade everyone that this is the best course forward, and now some are claiming that I don't have Camelot's best interests at heart." Her voice broke at the end, the hurt that she felt when a council member threw those words in her face, returning.

Immediately, she was wrapped in his arms. "Fools," muttered Arthur angrily into her hair. "I've only been here a few weeks and I know how much you've done for this kingdom."

She smiled into his chest. "You might be biased."

His chest vibrated with laughter, then he leaned over and kissed her. As his hands pushed up the skirts she wore, she gave in to the growing desire in her and let her mind concentrate on her own pleasure instead of the kingdom for once.

Arthur was snoring, wrapped comfortably in some blankets. As feelings of tenderness swept over her, she pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder before slipping off the bed. She looked loved, she thought staring at herself in the mirror, as she straightened her clothes, except even when she said she loved Arthur, he never said it back.

Gwen shook her head. She was asking too much of him. He cared enough to return and be the father of their child. Baby steps, she told herself. It wouldn't be long till everything went back to normal.

Satisfied that she looked presentable enough, she left Arthur sleeping in bed. Spending time with Arthur definitely made her more relaxed before council meetings, she thought wryly as she made her way to the council chambers, Sir Brom at her side.

"Your majesty," he said. "That man - he looks awfully like -"

Gwen arched an eyebrow at him. Immediately he faltered, apologising profusely. The fear and distress on his face made Gwen soften. "I am sure you won't repeat the same mistake. I have put a lot of faith in you after your father's death."

"I understand, my lady."

"Good," said Gwen.

Most of the council had gathered by the time she entered the chambers and a quick look at exactly who they were, and Gwen had a suspicion that they had met earlier. More politics but still, she flashed as warm a smile as she could muster to them.

"Good afternoon," she said as she sat. "Leon, would you like to begin?"

The meeting started out well with discussions on various minor issues that had cropped up in the rebuilding of some towns, a motion by Percival to allow female knights and some speculation over the latest broken engagement of King Reginald. In fact, Gwen almost let her guard down as she laughed at a comment Leon made.

Then Hector spoke.

“Do we have any updates from the men sent to Lady Joan’s lands?”

Percival nodded, clearing his throat. “The messenger arrived just this morning. When our men arrived, there had just been a small battle between two small groups of knights. You were right, my lady. Our banners were enough to get Lady Joan and Lord Edward to call a temporary ceasefire. They have been persuaded that it is in their best interests to make a trip to Camelot.”

“How long before they arrive?” asked Gwen.

“About two days.”

“They will be arriving with King Lester,” said Hector. “If you tell them that you and Acerith are to be joined in marriage, then both Lord Edward and Lady Joan will have little choice but to accede to whatever we want.”

Gwen shot Hector a quick glance. “Whatever we want?”

“Lady Joan’s lands lie on a gold mine. A very productive mine. The amount of gold we can mine from it would make Camelot, and Acerith, so powerful, we can easily dominate the whole of Albion.”

Gwen stifled a gasp as realisation dawned on her. “That’s very interesting.” She gulped down a mouthful of water, trying to sort out her thoughts. Hector had planned this all, pulling the strings simply to take over Lady Joan’s lands. And she had almost fallen for it.

Fuming after the meeting, she marched back to her room, even more annoyed when she remembered Merlin wasn’t around because he was on some sort of pointless quest to prove Arthur was real.

“Gwen?” said Leon tentatively. He closed the door quietly behind him after he followed her into her chambers.

“I should have known. I knew he had something up his sleeves but I never put it together.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. None of us did. And you have had a lot on your mind.” At those words, Leon’s eyes drifted to the still snoring Arthur on her bed. “What’s going to happen with him?”

Gwen sighed. “I’m waiting for Merlin to return. He needs to be very sure Arthur isn’t some magical being back to destroy Camelot.”

“But you’re sure he’s Arthur?”

“I am. I’ve no doubts at all,” Gwen said firmly.

Leon hesitated, looking away. “Perhaps we can’t wait for Merlin to return. I have heard rumours that Hector has assured King Lester that you are agreeable to wed his son. And you know what King Lester can be like if he feels like he’s been lied to. At least, if Arthur returns, King Lester can be let down easily.”

Gwen looked at Arthur, face buried in her pillow, his chest rising and sinking as he breathed. Her heart expanded with affection. “Thank you for your advice” said Gwen. “I’ll think about it.”

With a quick bow, Leon left her chambers.

+

Gwen clapped her hands when Arthur successfully recited the whole family tree, complete with dry commentary, of King Lester.

“You have to admit that I’m pretty good at this,” he said smugly. “Soon I’ll have the whole of Albion’s royal families memorised.”

“Never too soon. King Lester is due to arrive tomorrow and Merlin is still not back.”

Arthur flopped onto the bed. “What do you plan to do? From what I understand, King Lester is not going to be pleased that he’s made the trip all the way here only to find out you have no intention of marrying his son. When I am king again, I am going to have that Hector banished from Camelot.”

“Not if I do it first,” said Gwen. She sat on the bed next to Arthur, grateful when he immediately enveloped her in a hug. “I’m going to give Merlin till lunch to return. If he doesn’t, I’m going to announce your return.”

“Well, I knew it was coming.” He gave her a slight smile. “But it still makes me nervous.”

“It’ll be fine. We’ve been preparing for a week.” Gwen hoped she didn’t sound as nervous as she felt.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t be honest about my memory loss?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to give them reason to be even more suspicious about your return. You know they will be – oh.”

Arthur stilled beside her. “Gwen? Are you in pain? Do I need to get Gaius?

“I think I feel the baby,” she said in awe. “I think I can feel her move.”

“Him,” said Arthur immediately. “Can I?”

Nodding, she took his hand and placed it on her stomach, willing the baby to move again. Disappointment filled Arthur’s eyes when nothing happened. Slowly he removed his hand.

“Maybe another time?” she said.

“I’m sure,” he said, smiling at her. Then his smile faded. “Are you sure about tonight?”

“We have to do it before King Lester’s arrival, whether Merlin returns or not.” She closed her eyes. This wasn’t how she wanted this to happen, her hand forced by Hector’s manipulations.

“Then we’ll do it,” said Arthur and Gwen wished she was as confident as Arthur seemed to be.

+

Afternoon came and went and there was still no sign of Merlin. Worry took up residence in her stomach and she contemplated sending Percival after him, except all she knew was that Merlin had gone to see the Triple Goddess and she had no idea where to find her.

Her hands clammy, her heart pounding in her throat, she called for attention during dinner.

The chatter faded and everyone turned to her. Gwen had addressed the whole court many times before but today, there were butterflies in her stomach. She hoped no one noticed the way her hand shook. Taking a deep breath, she smiled as brightly as she could.

“If you noticed, today’s dinner is a little more elaborate than usual.” Cheers greeted her words and she nodded. “The reason is, I have wonderful news.” She could hear herself choke up. It had been over a month since she had known Arthur was alive but announcing it made all her emotions bubble to the surface. She paused, trying to get a hold of herself. “Just over five months ago, we laid King Arthur to rest. He died for us, for our peace. Perhaps the heavens understood how important King Arthur was to Camelot, perhaps they realised he died far too young, but –“ She stopped and swiped at the tears that spilled over onto her cheeks. “But some weeks ago, we realised that Arthur has been returned to us.”

Immediately the court reacted. Gasps rang through the hall as confused voices got louder. Eyes scanned the hall, looking for their returned King.

“Returned to us?” demanded someone. “What does that mean?”

“Is he a spirit?” asked another.

"Was Merlin wrong?"

"Are you sure it's Arthur and not some magic forces at work?"

"Where is he?"

Percival called for order and while the murmurings continued, the hall quietened down.

"I understand you have many questions and I'll answer as many as I can, one by one. As for where Arthur is - Sir Leon?"

With a quick nod, Leon stepped towards the heavy doors and pushed them open. And even though Gwen had known Arthur would be behind it, seeing him decked in full King regalia, candlelight glinting off his crown, still made her heart constrict. For the first time, it truly struck her, Arthur was back.

His appearance led to more chaos, from people bowing hastily as he swept past them, cape billowing behind him to questions hurled both at him and Gwen. Taking the seat next to her at the high table, Arthur closed his hand around hers and she realised that he was no where as confident as he looked. His hand was cold and his grip hard.

Gwen was very aware of the slight shiver in Arthur's hands as he ate dinner, although he masked his nervousness well as he chatted easily with the various nobles who came up to welcome him. In front of their King, no one dared to suggest anything negative about his return and the atmosphere suddenly took on a celebratory mood. Stories were told, toasts were made and laughter filled the hall. Gwen could tell when Arthur's confidence returned - there was a sparkle in his eyes, his hand no longer gripped hers and he joked and laughed comfortably with his people.

As he threw his head back, laughing generously at a comment Sir Rowan made, Gwen smiled as she let herself believe that everything would work out.

+

"I told you not to do anything!" whispered Merlin urgently after snagging her arm and dragging her into an alcove.

"Welcome back," she smiled, in too much good spirits to be perturbed by his sullenness. "Arthur has taken to being King like a duck to water."

"They are not happy."

"The council? I know." Hector had cornered her after dinner, when Arthur was busy chatting with some knights. Although there was a smile on Hector's face, he had quite coldly told her that he thought the timing of Arthur's return was far too convenient.

Merlin pulled her further into the alcove. "No, I mean the Triple Goddess."

"Oh." Fear spiked in her. As little as she knew about magic, she was pretty sure angering the Triple Goddess was not the best idea. She looked at Merlin carefully, her eyes widening when she noticed the bruise under his eye and the cut along his eyebrow. "What happened to you?"

A group of nobles walked noisily past them.

"Not here," Merlin muttered. "And Arthur should probably hear it too."

A quick word with Sir Brom sent him scurrying to fetch Arthur from the training grounds. Whatever good mood Gwen had woken up with this morning had completely dissipated. In the sunlight that flooded her chambers, Gwen could see that the bruise was worse than she had thought. Firmly, she guided him to a chair, then quickly brought out the little bag she kept to tend to Arthur's various battle injuries.

Merlin hissed as Gwen cleaned the cut on his forehead.

"Sorry," murmured Gwen. "Were you attacked?"

"Let’s just say the Triple Goddess were very unhappy at how their will had been defied." Merlin sighed, then muttered something about people in lakes.

"Are they planning to do anything about it?" Her stomach clenched. "Will they - will they take him away again?"

At that moment, the door swung open and Arthur strode in, his face flushed and his damp hair plastered to his forehead. "What happened?" he asked. "Is Gwen alright?" Arthur's eyes met hers and the warmth in his smile buoyed her sagging spirits.

"How's Merlin?" muttered Merlin with a roll of his eyes. "Why, I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"Actually, you look a mess," said Arthur. He set Excalibur onto the table, pressed a kiss on Gwen's cheek, then walked to where Merlin sat and peered at him. "Got into a fight?"

"Because of you." Merlin winced when Gwen touched his bruise. "I've got both good and bad news."

"Good news first," said Gwen immediately. Arthur nodded.

"I'm glad to announce that you're the real thing. You're Arthur Pendragon in the flesh. You actually have risen from the dead."

A wide smile split Arthur's face and Gwen could sense the relief that poured from him. "I have to say, I'm glad. I am getting used to being king."

Gwen took Arthur's hand. "How about the bad news?"

"The Triple Goddess know Camelot has learnt of your return." Merlin darted an accusing glance at Gwen. "They were willing to let it go if you'd gone off and made a normal life in a village. But you taking the crown - they are not too happy about that. It seems your last conflict with them still chafes."

"Is this a conflict that arose from the fact that I believed magic was evil, thanks to a certain manservant I had who was keeping secrets?"

"Arthur -" Gwen said warningly. "It wasn't that simple."

Merlin glared at Arthur. "It wasn't. Perhaps if you hadn't been such a stubborn clotpole then -"

"Merlin! All that is history. Can we talk about what the Triple Goddess are up to?"

Merlin sighed. "They have passed judgement."

Her heart grew cold. "What do they want?"

"For one thing, Arthur is never going to get his memory back."

Gwen glanced at Arthur. While Arthur still had a slight smile on his face, she could see that his eyes the disappointment and if she wasn't wrong, fear. "Well," he said, "that's not a big deal. I've been without my memory for months now."

"They also threatened the downfall of Camelot,” Merlin paused, looking from Gwen to Arthur, “if Camelot fails to preserve peace in Albion.”

+

From her window, Gwen watched as Arthur threw his head back in laughter in response to something Percival said. He was training for the tournament in honour of King Lester and Gwen thought that despite coming back from the dead, Arthur still wouldn’t be easy to beat. The twirl of his sword, the stance he dropped into, the way his body moved as he sparred with one of the younger knights were all very familiar to her. But the man who was in the training ground moved with a freedom that Arthur had lacked in the past few years.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Arthur lifted his head, his eyes searching but he failed to find hers.  
Another knight approached him, and with a slap on the young man’s back, Arthur’s attention was drawn back to the training ground.

Gwen told herself she was glad Arthur seemed to be fitting into his role as King easily. No one seemed to notice his memory loss and the knights seemed willing to accept his miraculous return to the land of the living, something she attributed to them having seen it before with Leon. Arthur's easy camaraderie with his knights helped greatly and any difficult questions there were stopped being asked. The council, especially Hector's little group, however were being more difficult about it.

“My lady.”

She turned from the window. "Sir Brom."

"King Lester is on his way."

"Thank you. Please get the King from training for me."

She looked at herself in her mirror, smoothing out her dress. Her stomach was rounder but at a glance, she didn't really look pregnant. Not that it mattered. She was under no illusion that news hadn't already spread, somehow, to King Lester that she was pregnant.

The horns sounded and taking a deep breath, Gwen walked to the courtyard to receive King Lester.

Arthur was already there and that calmed her heart slightly. She watched as King Lester's carriage approached, flanked by his knights. It came to a stop just in front of the steps and Gwen walked down, Arthur a few paces behind.

“Queen Guinevere!” King Lester’s voice filled the courtyard. Then his eyes fell on Arthur. Confusion coloured his face and he stopped. “King Arthur?” he asked tentatively.

“Lester!” said Arthur. “How good of you to pay us a visit.”

Warily, King Lester shook Arthur’s hand, then introduced his son, Prince Reynard.

He was young, thought Gwen, as she studied the shy prince. Perhaps as young as she was when her future was inexorably changed with that kiss in her home.

“I have to admit that I wasn’t aware you survived the battle at Camlann. In fact, I remember attending your funeral just a few months ago. Didn’t we, Reynard?”

Prince Reynard nodded and Gwen thought he’d agree with anything his father said.

“We all thought he was dead too but recently, we discovered he wasn’t.” Gwen tucked her hand in Arthur’s arm. “As you can imagine, we were all very happy. And your visit is fortuitous. We can celebrate Arthur’s return together. We have a tournament and a fantastic feast planned for you.”

“That,” said King Lester, “sounds great. Welcome back King Arthur. We have missed you. If you don’t mind, it has been a long journey and we would like to rest a while.”

“Of course. Sir Lief, please show King Lester and Prince Reynard to their rooms please.”

Side by side, she stood with Arthur and watched as King Lester and Prince Reynard walked into the castle.

“He doesn’t look happy,” said Arthur.

“No. He doesn’t.”

Arthur looked down at her, his face serious. “It’s going to be a difficult few days.”

+

After a rather tense dinner, King Lester asked to meet Gwen privately and while Arthur expressed his doubts, he eventually left the hall with Merlin.

“I am sure you are aware that I made this journey here, left my kingdom without a leader for a few weeks, because I was told that you were willing to consider marriage to my son.” His eyes were hard and his hands gripped the round table tightly. A muscle worked in his jaw. “And now you tell me your husband is alive?”

Looking directly at King Lester, Gwen apologised. “I did not realise Arthur would return to Camelot, not after we all thought he was dead.”

King Lester stared unflinchingly at her. “I feel humiliated. I don’t like being humiliated.”

“King Lester, I assure you that this was not my intention. Had Arthur returned earlier, we would have been able to send word.”

“Was your Court Sorcerer mistaken?” Lester bit out, the fingers curled around the edge of the table so tightly, they were white. “Because for a man touted as the most powerful warlock in Albion, that’s a very serious mistake to make.”

“I –“

“Or is this Arthur something conjured up by your Court Sorcerer? I am no fool Queen Guinevere. People don’t usually come back from the dead. I don’t know what game you are playing but believe me, I will find out and you will regret it.”

“King Lester!”

But King Lester had marched out of the room, slamming the heavy door in his wake.

Gwen swallowed, and placed a hand on her chest, trying to calm her thumping heart. Hector. This was all his fault.

+

Later, as she reviewed some reports from Leon, Arthur entered, slick with sweat and dirt, grinning like a fool.

“Had a good practice?” She asked, looking up from her papers.

“Mmm,” Arthur replied, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “I’m going to need to clean up. How was your day?”

“Productive. George can draw you a bath.”

Arthur shucked off his top, dropping it onto the floor. “Great. So I’m thinking of not taking part in the tournament.”

She dropped the quill in her hand. “What?”

“I might still fight well - I did easily defeat the knights today - but I’m still rusty and it seems somewhat foolish to have me out there fighting, especially when I’ve just returned from the dead.”

It was an argument Gwen herself had put to Arthur several times yet she found herself saying, “You would never miss a tournament. You’d rather risk your life than let your people think you a coward.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Well, I would imagine that having died for Camelot, no one is about to think I am a coward.”

“Of course,” said Gwen, looking back at the papers in front of her, wondering why she felt unhappy when Arthur was finally doing something she’d been arguing for years.

“It isn’t like King Lester or Prince Reynard are participating,” he continued quietly.

“Yes,” she agreed.

She heard him sigh. “Gwen, surely -”

“It’s fine,” she said, looking up at him again. “It’s just not like you.”

Arthur looked at her silently. She looked back at the report she was reading earlier, trying to ignore her irrational emotions. Arthur with nothing to prove. It was different and Gwen wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

She felt him walk over to her. Then his hands were on her shoulders, kneading them. “What did King Lester want with you?”

“In summary, he isn’t happy that you’re back and I’m not marrying his son.”

“How angry?” The feel of Arthur’s hands relaxed her slightly and she leaned back into his chest.

“Very. He feels humiliated.” She yawned and her eyes fluttered close, her attention drifting. The only thing she could focus on was the movements of Arthur’s fingers on her skin.

Arthur’s hand squeezed her shoulders. “What should we do now?”

Shaking her head, she sighed. "I don't know what to do about Lester, but for now, I’d like to spend some time alone with you.”

Gwen had little time to worry about King Lester as a reluctant Lady Joan and Lord Edward arrived, escorted by her knights, in Camelot. When King Lester didn’t look the least surprised to see them, Gwen knew her suspicions were right.

“Hector and Lester are working together and somehow, they managed to use Lady Joan and Lord Edward as pawns, all because they want Camelot’s power and Lady Joan’s lands.”

Arthur, Merlin, Percival and Leon stood quietly around the round table as she spoke.

Stabbing a finger on the table, she continued. “They thought that with Arthur dead, they could force me into a marriage with Prince Reynard. And then when Acerith and Camelot are joined, he was going to use the conflict between Lady Joan and Lord Edward as a reason to storm into their lands and take them. I can’t believe I didn’t work this out earlier.” She stabbed her finger at the table again. Arthur’s hand wrapped around hers, gently pulling her away from the table.

“What do you want to do?” Merlin asked. Gwen heard the tightness in his voice and knew he was thinking of the Triple Goddess.

She glanced at Arthur, who merely nodded encouragingly at her. “I was wrong. Ending the conflict between Lady Joan and Lord Edward will not be successful with Hector or King Lester around. And if Lester thinks that his plan is falling apart, which he does already, then he’s only going to want to prolong the conflict between Lady Joan and Lord Edward to use as leverage.”

Understanding dawned in Arthur’s eyes. “I can keep King Lester busy. He may be suspicious of me but until he’s sure, I think he will be wary of upsetting me.”

“Good point,” nodded Gwen. “And Percy and Leon, I want you to distract Hector and keep him away from King Lester as much as possible. I’m sure that project he is in charge with will suddenly need increased close supervision.”

Percival and Leon nodded.

She caught Merlin’s eyes. “It’s important we maintain peace in Albion,” she said firmly, refusing to allow the curdling fear in her to surface. She had a second chance with Arthur. She was not about to let anything take him away from her again.

+

That night, in bed, the pressure and the stress of the last two days finally caught up with her. Curling into Arthur’s warm body, she asked if he would call her Guinevere again, craving the comfort and familiarity that was him. He did but the sound was flat and awkward and he’d laughed after that, saying it was too fancy, even if she was queen. His kiss eased the odd unhappiness that she felt and she fell asleep in his arms.

“Don’t worry,” Arthur said the next morning. “Merlin and I will be fine. Will you?”

“Sir Brom will be with me. It’ll be fine.”

Arthur lifted her hand, threading his fingers with hers. “I’m not sure I like the idea of you and Prince Reynard flirting.”

Gwen rolled her eyes at him. “I’m just going to talk to him and frankly, Reynard doesn’t look like he can flirt even if his life depended on it. I guess that’s something you and him have in common.”

“I can flirt!” Arthur huffed.

“Well,” said Gwen as she leaned into him. “Maybe you can show me one day and I can make a comparison.”

+

“Prince Reynard,” Gwen was relieved to find him alone in his room. “May I have a word?”

He poked his head out, his eyes darting nervously across the corridor. Looking for his father, Gwen thought but Arthur had invited him to inspect the knights’ training and as much as he thought Arthur was a fraud, King Lester had still agreed politely.

“Um, come in.” Reynard stepped aside, gesturing for Gwen to enter. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve heard that you are a good person,” said Gwen as she closed the door behind her. Leaning against it, she smiled tentatively. “Someone who can be trusted.”

Gwen tried to stifle her smile when she noticed Reynard’s chest puff up slightly. He was so young and she felt a little bad using him as she was.

“That’s true.”

Looking down, trying to appear as frightened as she could, Gwen said, “can I tell you something in confidence?”

Reynard moved closer to her, putting a hand on her shoulder, a hand Gwen realised was trembling. “Of course.”

“The thing is, I fear your father is right. That the man who has returned to be my husband is not the same person I lost.” She looked up at him through her lashes, a sudden pang in her heart when she realised the truth in that lie.

His hand dropped and he took a step back. “What? We need to –“

“No, no, no.” Gwen quickly grasped his hand. “We can’t tell your father. You know the temper your father has and it’s embarrassing, so I would like to keep it quiet. My men are already dealing with this. It’s just a matter of gathering the proof and deciding what to do with him. I just needed to share this with someone.”

“If you think that is best.” He looked nervously at Gwen.

Gwen smiled. “It’s nice to know that there are some people out there who are such decent people. I think,” she dropped her eyes again, “that we might make a good pair.”

Reynard gulped. “Yes.”

Sighing exaggeratedly, Gwen moved towards Reynard who took a quick step back. “I’m so tired. The conflict between Lady Joan and Lord Edward is making it difficult for me to deal with the return of Arthur.”

“Uh – you should deal with your – uh – Arthur first,” suggested Reynard.

She shook her head. “I can’t. Not when I have fears that another war might break out in Albion. If only Lady Joan and Lord Edward is able to come to an agreement for peace. I don’t even know why they started fighting after all that time they spent working on the previous peace agreement.” Gwen sighed again, then dabbed at her eyes. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything since your kingdom borders theirs?”

“Umm –“

“If you could help me, then I would be so very grateful. Ruling is such a difficult job.”

Reynard looked nervously around, then seemed to make a decision. “I know that there were rumours that Lord Edward was planning to invade Lady Joan’s lands after her poor harvest as she was vulnerable. The gold mine she has is very attractive.”

“But,” she frowned, “Lady Joan is the one who is advancing into Lord Edward’s lands.”

He paled slightly. “Uh –“

“If you know something, please –“ Gwen smiled up at him.

Tearing his eyes from her, he mumbled to the floor. “She might have thought that a few bandit attacks on the land were the work of Lord Edward.”

Gwen clenched her hands and willed herself to remain calm. “And they weren’t?”

“I don’t know,” Reynard rushed out. He shifted from foot to foot and was unable to maintain any sort of eye contact with Gwen. “What – uh – are you going to do about Arthur?”

"I’m not completely sure," Gwen said, then coughed. “Sorry. I am not feeling well.”

“Would you like to –“

Before Reynard could finish his sentence, Sir Brom knocked and announced that Gwen was needed urgently.

As apologetically as possible, Gwen said, “I have to go. Thank you for listening to me.” She placed a hand on his cheek and felt him shiver. “Remember, this is our secret. Don’t tell your father.”

“Yes. Yes.” He tried to smile but managed only something that looked more like a grimace. Guilt welled in Gwen and she quickly left the room before she truly apologised for her actions.

Merlin was hovering in the shadows outside. “You’re sure he’ll tell his father?”

“He won’t be able not to,” said Gwen as they strolled down the corridor. “Is Arthur still with Lester?”

“Yes, but not for long I believe. Arthur is trying but his lack of memory and knowledge isn’t helping. At least Leon and Percival are there. Lester is going to suspect something.”

“That’s the point. Lester will be so busy trying to dig up proof of Arthur being fake that he won’t pay attention to Lady Joan and Lord Edward. And I want to pay attention to Lady Joan and Lord Edward.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “And I suppose you want me to help King Lester.”

“You and Arthur,” she nodded. “Just keep him busy as I work with the two fiefdoms.

“Sounds like a plan.”

+

Gwen didn’t see Arthur the whole day till just before dinner. He entered their chambers with a huge grin and presented her with roses from the castle garden one, pressing kisses against her neck and she found herself irrationally wishing they were wildflowers from the side of a road.

"Wildflowers?" He said in slight confusion. “You don’t like roses?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just –“ She stopped when she realised how foolish it sounded. “Nothing. Thank you. They are lovely.”

Arthur studied her, then took her hands and pulled her so she stood right in front of him. “I used to pick you wildflowers.” His voice was flat and his eyes narrowed.

“Yes.”

“Well,” Arthur said, “I guess things are different now.” One arm snaked around her waist and tightened so that she was flushed against his body. His head dipped and he nuzzled the hollow of the throat, making her moan.

“Different,” she repeated, curling her fingers into his hair. It was the only thing she could think to say.

“Different in a good way,” said Arthur firmly against her collarbone, as if he was trying to make her believe it too.

Wisps of her hair had escaped her bun but Gwen thought she looked presentable enough. Merlin sighed knowingly when she and Arthur caught up with him but kept his mouth shut. Arthur’s mouth, however, twitched with amusement and he wrapped his arm around her, holding her close to him.

“You said once that you wanted to name your child after your parents,” said Gwen as they walked to dinner.

“I always thought it was a bad idea,” chimed in Merlin. “Especially naming after your father.”

Arthur shook his head. “He was an ass wasn’t he? At least the more I learn about him, the more he seemed like an ass.”

“That he was. I like your new outlook,” said Merlin approvingly. “I don’t have to pretend to like your father now. Did Gwen tell you about the time he came back from the dead to try and kill us?”

Gwen felt Arthur’s arm tighten around her waist. “No.”

“Merlin,” said Gwen. “It’s not important.”

Clearly disagreeing with her, Merlin simply sighed. “What is important you negotiating peace between Lord Edward and Lady Joan.”

Gwen looked up at Arthur as the weight of the need for success gripped her. “Maybe you should lead the negotiations. You’ve been to all the meetings and I’ve seen you reading up on the politics. I’m sure you can handle it.”

“If I do that, then who will entertain King Lester?” Arthur asked quite sensibly.

“But -”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you going to tell me that usually I would lead all negotiations?”

“Yes, no matter what part I play in them. You take the lead.”

“I am not that Arthur,” he said quietly. “You should lead the negotiations. Your plan is a good one. If King Lester is too free, he will figure out a way to involve himself in the negotiations. As you said, Merlin and I are going to lead him in circles. He is already suspicious when I couldn’t remember a knight’s name.”

Arthur was right. But since Arthur’s death, Gwen had to handle a peace negotiation at all and she’d never handled one without him. “If I don’t –“

“Shh,” said Arthur. “You won’t fail.”

Gwen wished she had the confidence of Arthur and Merlin but she did pull herself together, just as they reached the dining hall, for a tense dinner with King Lester, Prince Reynard, Lord Edward and Lady Joan.

+

Gwen smiled fondly when upon waking, she saw Arthur up and about.

“You never wake before the sun or me,” she said sleepily. “You used to be so difficult to wake. Merlin -”

Arthur’s quiet response took her by surprise. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?”

She heard him sigh, then walk over to her. “Have you noticed that ever since I agreed to return, you’ve been comparing me to the husband you lost in Camlann.”

Slowly, Gwen sat up in bed, clutching a pillow to her chest as if it might give her protection against the pain that she could feel coming. “You are the husband I lost in Camlann.”

Slowly, he sat on the bed next to her but didn’t touch her. “But I’m not, Gwen. I’m not the Arthur you lost. Not completely.”

The words said out loud pricked her heart. At a loss for words, she stared at him, at the hurt that were in his eyes.

“Gwen - Guinevere - that’s what he called you, didn’t he? I know I’m him but at the same time, I’m not. The thing is, I don’t exactly want to be king but I love you. Merlin said we were destined to be together once but I think the truth is I am destined to love you. And I do -with all my heart. But it hurts to keep feeling like a pale copy of the man you truly love.”

“I love you Arthur,” she said quickly, too quickly she realised when she saw doubt flash in his eyes.

“Do you? Or do you love the person I was?” He stopped, turned away and ran his hand through his hair. With less heat in his tone, he continued. “Am I always going to be second best to myself?”

“Arthur -” she started but faltered when she realised she didn’t know what to say that would ease Arthur’s concerns and not be a lie.

He rubbed his face. “I’m sorry. But maybe when everything is over and peace is assured, maybe we have to sit down and think about what we are doing. I can’t be the Arthur you want me to be.” When she said nothing, he brushed a kiss against her cheek. “I’m going to see if King Lester would like to train with the knights.”

As the door closed behind him, Gwen blinked back tears, wondering how it had all gone so wrong so quickly.

“Is the baby making you emotional?” Merlin asked when she bumped into him along the corridors.

Gwen glared at him then continued walking.

“I’m sorry,” said Merlin, catching up with her. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Some knights filed past them. Waiting till they left the area, Gwen confided in Merlin, telling him of Arthur’s words. There was some satisfaction to be had when Merlin immediately called Arthur a prat.

“What is he trying to pull? Does he regret saying he’ll stay?”

“No. He just thinks I don’t love him.”

Merlin scoffed at her words. “You two are destined for each other. Even death couldn’t keep the two of you apart.”

“But he is right, in a way. He’s not Arthur. I mean, he is but he also isn’t.” She leaned against the window that looked out over the courtyard. The cool stone against her forehead, she closed her eyes. “I wanted Arthur back so desperately and now he’s back and the Triple Goddess has passed judgement on us and everything just seems like such mess. Maybe things would have been better if –“

“Don’t say that. “Beside her, she felt Merlin sigh, then his arm slip around her shoulder. “Focus on the peace negotiations. Everything else will fall into place.”

+

The round table felt even larger than usual with only her, Lady Joan and Lord Edward seated around it. Sunlight streamed in from the large windows and the colours danced on the table, a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere in the room. Gwen placed her hands on the cool, smooth wood, took a deep breath and started the meeting.

An hour into the tense discussion, the door to the council room swung open and a livid King Lester stood in its frame. His eyes dark with anger and his hands fisted by his side, Lester looked like a monster from her dreams.

“Guinevere Pendragon.” His voice was surprisingly controlled. “I see that I have underestimated you.”

“My wife has a brilliant brain.” It was then Gwen noticed Arthur standing slightly behind King Lester. Their eyes met and Arthur nodded encouragingly at her.

She stood. “King Lester, I don’t believe you were invited to this meeting.”

“Had Lady Joan not mentioned this meeting in passing this morning, I would never have known that you’d dare discuss issues with Lady Joan and Lord Edward without my knowledge.”

“The last peace agreement between them did not involve you. There is no reason to involve you now,” said Gwen coolly despite the nerves that danced in her stomach. By then, Arthur had moved to her side and slouched casually into the seat next to her. “But since you’re here,” Gwen continued, “you may be able to clarify some things for us.”

She gestured to an empty chair and King Lester threw himself into it, muttering under his breath.

“You said he was not Arthur,” he accused, pointing at Arthur who merely smiled smugly at King Lester. “You led my son to believe that you were willing to marry him.”

Ignoring the wide-eyed stares of Lady Joan and Lord Edward, Gwen smiled sweetly. “I never said those words. Perhaps I was a little unsure after your accusation but now, as Merlin can attest, this man here – “Gwen took the chance to run her hand up his arm. “ – is in every way King Arthur.”

“I was made well aware of that this morning,” snapped King Lester bitterly. “Complete with magic. After I spent three whole days in his company trying to help you come up with proof this man was not Arthur.”

Gwen pursed her lips, trying not to let her amusement show. Merlin must have put on quite a show to demonstrate that Arthur was really Arthur. “I’m glad that’s one issue off our chests. I thank you for your assistance.”

“And now you talk to Lord Edward and Lady Joan alone?”

This was her chance. “For this I apologise. I realise that you’ve been very much involved in this conflict of theirs.”

The fury in King Lester suddenly dampened. Wariness filled his eyes and he shifted in his seat. “I have encouraged them to stop fighting.”

“I heard from Lady Joan that you were kind enough to send a messenger to her to inform her that what she thought were bandit attacks on her land were actually attacks launched by Lord Edward.”

A fist slammed onto the table. “How dare you,” said Lord Edward. “You told me that Joan was amassing an army and planning an attack on my lands.”

“I was not,” spluttered Lady Joan. “I have no designs on your lands at all. All I want is peace in mine.”

“Look. This is all a misunderstanding,” said King Lester.

Arthur finally spoke. “A misunderstanding? Seems to me that it’s all very clear. You were trying to get Edward and Joan embroiled in a war.”

Turning his anger towards Arthur, King Lester bit out. “Why would I want two fiefdoms at my kingdom’s doorstep fighting?”

“Perhaps you thought that it was a way to take over Lady Joan’s lands and, of course, her mine.” Gwen said calmly. “I know you told Lord Edward last night that Lady Joan had spoken to you and mentioned that she had the support of King Rodor. A blatant lie, I might add, since I know for certain King Rodor has no intention of being part of this conflict.”

Lord Edward jumped out of his seat. “What?”

Lady Joan pursed her lips and leaned into hers. “You scheming old fart,” she snarled.

Then all hell broke loose as King Lester attempted to defend himself while Edward and Joan expressed their anger. Gwen caught Arthur’s eyes and he smiled wryly. At her nod, he stood and demanded they settle down.

“I may not look it, but I am angry,” he said. “Camelot and by extension Albion means a great deal to me. I died for Albion and you, King Lester, out of greed and selfishness, start up a war not one month after my death. It would be easy for me to kill you for this – for your treachery. But I’ve had enough of war and violence.”

“What do you want?” snapped King Lester as Edward and Joan looked on warily.

“I want,” said Arthur, “an apology to both Lord Edward and Lady Joan. And I expect reparations for the trouble you put them through. Renege on this and I assure you that I will lead Camelot’s army into your lands and you will have proof that I am indeed King Arthur Pendragon.”

King Lester said nothing but his head lowered in submission.

+

Beside her, Merlin cheered as Percival easily disarmed his opponent. The tournament was in full swing and like all tournaments, it was a celebration of friendship and sword skills. From her seat, she could see Lord Edward and Lady Joan next to each other. They weren’t talking but Gwen took it as a good sign that they had managed to not kill each other over the past few hours despite being in such close proximity. King Lester, however, had left Camelot immediately after signing the agreement in a huff. He was going to be a problem, but not for a while.

“With my advice and tactics, of course Percy was going to beat all his opponents,” said Arthur smugly as he slapped Percival on the back, after Gwen complimented him on his fine showing.

She shook her head, her curls flying, at his words and Arthur shot her a heated look. For a moment, it seemed like Arthur would kiss her, but he took a step back instead, sending an arrow of hurt through Gwen, reminding her of their unresolved issue.

As surreptitiously as possible, Gwen stared at Arthur’s profile, subconsciously memorising it for when he might leave again, when he stopped to speak to another of his knights. She should be bursting with joy at how she’d managed to avoid another conflict in Albion but her heart felt heavy and every time Arthur seemed to take a step back from her, her heart tore a little more.

The knight had just lost a round and Arthur, an arm around his knight’s shoulders, encouraged him warmly, pointing out all the positives to be taken from his loss.

“A loss is never the end of the road. Learn from your mistakes and come back better the next time.” Said Arthur. “You are a full-fledged knight. I must have seen something in you.”

“Thank you, sire.”

“You did your best. That’s what is important.”

The knight, just a moment ago, sullen and slumped over, beamed. Gwen’s heart constricted. This Arthur who came back from the dead might not call her Guinevere or pick her wildflowers, but inside, he was still the noble, strong, kind and infuriatingly arrogant man he always had been. The thought set something free in her and a slow smile spread across her face.

“You look happy,” said Arthur. His hand tugged at a curl. “I like seeing you happy.”

“I have a lot to be happy about.” She took his hand. “Arthur, we need –“

But before she could finish, Merlin popped up. “Hey, Percival did good. We might yet win this competition although Lady Joan’s Taryn is very skilled.”

Arthur nodded in agreement. “Very. I almost regret not taking part. I would love to put my skill against hers.”

“Really,” said Merlin sceptically. “I believe you don’t like losing to girls.”

“Who said I was going to lose?”

“I wouldn’t be too sure. I’ve seen you with the knights.”

Arthur stopped walking. “What are you implying?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you suggesting that I can’t beat Taryn?”

Gwen sighed and continued walking, letting the two of them bicker behind her.

“How much time before the dinner feast?” Arthur asked after the end of the tournament for the day as the three of them strolled out of the council room.

“About an hour or two,” said Merlin.

Arthur grinned. “Great. Gwen and I are going to spend some time alone.”

“Oy!” said Merlin. But Arthur just gave him a none too gentle shove and he stumbled away, not before glaring at Arthur.

Immediately, Gwen opened her mouth only for Arthur to shake his head and gesture for her to just follow him.

“I got you something,” he said mysteriously as he led her back to their chambers. Pushing the door open, he stood back, urging her to enter.

There were wildflowers everywhere. On the dresser, sprinkled on their bed, on the table, next to the window.

Before she could say anything, his arms slid around her waist, his mouth at her ear. “You’ve worked really hard and all I’ve done is stand around and accept congratulations for being alive. The big feast is tonight, the tournament finals tomorrow but most importantly, you’ve ensured peace in Albion and my continued existence at least for the near future. I just wanted you to have something that would make you smile.” He paused, shifted a little. “I know I haven’t said it much after that talk, but I love you, Guinevere.”

The feelings that crashed over her heart were overwhelming, drowning her with love for the man holding her.

“I -”

“Shh,” Arthur whispered. “You don’t have to say it back.”

"I want to," she said. "Because I love you too. You, not some memory of Arthur I have.”

Slowly, he turned her around so she faced him, gently cupped her face. She licked her suddenly dry lips and watched as his eyes darkened with desire. They hadn’t made love since the quarrel.

“Kiss me,” she said. And he did.


	2. [outtakes]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some scenes I wrote about Arthur's time in the village but removed because I decided to write the whole thing from Gwen's POV.

The first thing he was aware of was the blinding pain in his head. Then it was the confusion. He was clearly lying in a forest but he wasn’t sure why. His eyes felt heavy and crusted, as if he hadn’t opened them in days and his body ached. Something major must have happened to him but it troubled him that he had no idea what. Groaning, he struggled to open his eyes and sit up. As his hands searched for purchase on the damp ground, one of them hit something metal. A sword. Before he could contemplate what that meant, he heard voices. Immediately, his fingers curled around the hilt.

They pounced. With an instinct born of an experienced fighter, he jumped to his feet and easily disarmed the three men who came at him, his sword pointing at one of their throats.

“Go,” he snapped, increasing the pressure of the sword tip against the man’s throat. Without a word, the three men scrambled away. He watched them leave, then swung the sword he held experimentally, slightly amazed at how natural it felt. Then it struck him, he had no idea why he was so good with a sword. Actually, he had no idea who he was. He frowned, struggling to recall his name - surely he knew his own name.

He didn’t.

Panic started to rise in him but he tempered it, sucking in deep breaths of the crisp forest air that was both familiar and foreign to him. Panicking would not help, he told himself firmly. A clear head was what he needed. He looked around the forest, wondering if there were anymore clues to his identity, anything that would suggest who he was. His skill with the sword suggested he was some sort of swordsman, maybe a mercenary or even a knight. He was kitted out in armour and the sword he had was of exquisite quality although how he knew that, he wasn’t sure.

Rustling some distance away caught his attention and the dangerous situation he was in dawned on him. He glanced at the sky, noting that the sun was sinking. Aware that surviving a night in the forest alone was risky, he decided to keep moving. With some luck, he might come across a bit of civilisation - somewhere he could rest with some measure of safety.

Apparently, not only was he handy with a sword, he had tracking skills. He might not know his name but he definitely knew how to find his way through a forest. Used trails, scuffs, marks on the barks of trees and a stream he stumbled across helped him find his way to a clearing where a tavern stood. As he stood on the edge of the clearing, fat drops of water splashed onto his shoulders. The deep rumbling that followed got him moving again, darting into the tavern just as the skies broke.

A tavern, he knew, was a hive of merriment and chatter but when he shut the door, he was met only with silence. It seemed that strangers weren’t a common sight here.

“Hello there,” a voice boomed out from the back.

He eased himself through the maze of tables, ignoring the people staring at him with blatant curiosity.

“Hello stranger. What brings you to my tavern today?” A plump woman leaned across the counter, a wide smile on her round face. The woman’s friendly demeanor towards him must have placated her customers as the chatter began and he was no longer at the center of everyone’s attention. “Sorry about that,” her friendly voice a contrast to the hard lines on her face and the keen glint in her eyes. “I’m Muriel, owner of this fine establishment. It’s not everyday we have someone dressed in full battle gear come in from the storm.” The wind shrieked in the background, the windows and door rattling against its assault. The woman chuckled at his expression. “You must be new around here. These summer storms are common this time of the year.”

“I just need shelter for a night and maybe a job.”

Amusement filled the woman’s face and a dark brow rose. “A job? Now why would I just give you, someone I don’t know, a job?”

“I’ll do anything. All I need is a dry place to rest my head tonight.”

“Anything?”

He nodded. “Anything.”

The woman looked him up and down. “You look like a fit lad and I could always use some muscles. I do have a lot of junk in the barn that I need moved.” She grinned. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask you to do it tonight. You look like you could do with a rest. And maybe an ale.” She turned to the back of the tavern and yelled, “Amber!”

A young girl, no older than ten, scurried down the staircase.

“Show this young man to the back room.” As he rose from the stool, the woman suddenly frowned. “You have nothing with you.”

“I travel light,” he said. Until he was sure about who he could trust, the less he said about his situation the better. “It’s easier that way.”

“Come down and have a drink. I like to get to know my employees better.” The smile remained on the woman’s face but her tone told him that this was an order not a request.

The room was small, just big enough for the rickety looking bed in the corner and a small side table. Dull green curtains covered a small window. It smelled musty, as if it hadn’t been used in a while. Still it was clean and at the present moment, the best he could do under the circumstances.

A throat cleared and he realised with a start that the young girl was still standing next to him. She raised one hand, palm up and looked at him expectantly.

“I’ve nothing,” he said as he turned his eyes away from her, feeling slightly bad. “Sorry.”

“How ‘bout that ring?” She pointed to the band around his finger but her lips were pursed and her eyes were twinkling. He had a feeling she was hiding a smile.

At her words, he rubbed the band absently, slightly taken aback by the warmth that ran through him in response. Squatting down, he smiled at the girl. “I think this was given to me by someone important.”

She tilted her head to the side. “You think?”

Caught out by her perceptiveness, he stood up again, searching his brains for a way to erase the suspicion in her eyes.

“Amber!”

That removed the suspicion from her eyes quickly. “Bye!” She flashed him the smile she’d been hiding, and then ran off as he watched her with a smile.

He had nothing to unpack but he lingered in the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. Slowly he removed the ring from his finger and he stared at it. There was no inscription, nothing that gave him a clue of who he might be. It was heavy and he suspected that it might be real gold. But most importantly, something deep inside his bones told him that the ring was precious, that it linked him to someone precious. Carefully, he slipped it back onto his finger.

A small cracked mirror lay on the side table. Picking it up, he looked at himself in the mirror, hoping that that would trigger his memory. But as he stared at the blond haired man in the mirror, nothing came to mind. He tossed the mirror back onto the table, swearing under his breath and punching the thin pillow as he allowed the frustration he’d kept tightly in leash some freedom.

With the rain still pelting down on the tavern, it was no surprise that it was still packed with people. He found a table in the corner, away from the prying eyes of the rest of the tavern.

“Hello.” Amber popped up at his table, a toothy grin on her face.

“Hello.”

“What’s your name?”

Good question. He supposed he had to come up with a name for himself. “Kay,” he said.

“I’m Amber.” She stuck her hand out which he took, regretting it immediately when his palm made contact with her sticky one. “That’s my mum, Muriel.” She pointed to the tavern owner chatting happily to some of the tavern guests, a large jug in her hands. Then, before he could say anything, Amber clambered onto the stool next to his, rested her elbows on the table and grinned at him. “I saw your sword,” she said in a whisper. “Are you a bad person?”

He made a show of looking round the tavern, then bent his head close to Amber’s and whispered back, “I’m a pirate,” enjoying the way Amber’s eyes widened. At the back of his mind, he desperately hoped he wasn’t a bad person. He didn’t feel like one but then again, did bad people feel different from good ones? Then again, a bad person wouldn’t have such thoughts would they?

“If it isn’t the mysterious fellow,” the familiar booming voice got his attention. Amber’s mother stopped next to the table. Easily, she plucked her giggling daughter from the stool, gave her instructions to sweep the back, then took her place. “Muriel. And you are?”

“Kay.”

“Where are you from?”

He almost laughed. Wouldn’t he like to know? “Around here.”

The smile Muriel wore on her face faded and her eyes grew flinty. “You looked lost and confused earlier and I took pity on you. But I’m no fool. If you won’t be honest with me, then you have to leave.”

“I woke today in the middle of the forest with nothing but my sword.” His hands fisted as he struggled with the decision to tell Muriel about his lack of memories.

“Not like bandits to leave a good sword.”

“No, I guess not.”

Muriel crossed her arms and watched him unsmilingly.

Kay let out a sigh. “The reason I’ve been so cagey is that I know as much about myself as you do.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“I know. And I wish I had a better answer for you,” he dropped his voice, “but basically, I woke up in the middle of a forest, with a sword and with no memory.”

“That’s tough,” muttered Muriel, rubbing her chin. “You must have fallen and hit your head. Your memory will probably return in a couple of days. I’ve seen it happen before.”

“I’m done. Can Kay teach me how to sword fight?” Amber came rushing up to them.

“The adults are talking,” Muriel said as she ruffled her hair. “Go and bring Kay some dinner.”

Amber rolled her eyes but went off.

“Cute girl.”

“My pride and joy,” grinned Muriel. “You’re welcomed to stay for a few days, lad. Don’t feel right turning away someone in trouble.” Someone yelled Muriel’s name and she stood, clapped Kay on the back before turning her attentions to her other guests.

A plate clattered onto his table. “Will you teach me to sword fight?”

He eyed the plate warily, unsure what the slop on it was, then looked at Amber. She widened her grin when he caught her eye. “It’s yummy.” Then as if to prove her point, she dipped her finger into the gravy then licked it clean.

“Amber!” Muriel sat down the ale and frowned at a completely unrepentant Amber. “Sorry about that. She can be a handful at times.” Her dark curls fell into her eyes, and she brushed them away impatiently. Something jolted in his brain, a sliver of an image shimmered but before he could focus on it, the image disintegrated.

“Kay?”

He shook his head in frustration then looked at a concerned Muriel. “Sorry, I was distracted. What did you say?”’

“I said I have some clothes you can borrow. A bit large - they belonged to my late husband - but they should do. Armour is probably quite uncomfortable to sleep in. Also, Amber is far too young to learn how to play with a sharp weapon.” She cast a warning look at him before walking away.

“Well?” Amber tugged at his sleeve, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Sword fighting?”

“Your mother said no.”

“I won’t tell her,” Amber whispered. “We could do it early in the morning -”

Kay bent down so his face was level to hers. “No Amber. You are too young. Maybe when you’re older.”

He expected her to pout or to throw a temper. Instead, she paused a little, chewed her lips and stared at him. “Ok, swimming then. I bet you can swim since you’re a pirate!”

Maybe some people could say no twice to Amber, but that person wasn’t him. “If your mother says it’s fine.” Then he frowned when he realised he wasn’t sure if he could swim.

The toothy grin returned and she scrambled onto the stool again. “When you finish your dinner, can we explore the outer forest? You have a sword and you can kill all the bad things.”

“Amber!” Quickly, she slid off the stool and turned to where her mother was. “Don’t bother the young man. It’s getting late.”

“She’s no bother,” said Kay.

“See mum? I’m no bother.”

“Amber. Say goodnight to Kay and get to bed.”

“Goodnight Kay.” Her sticky hand patted his. “See you tomorrow!”

A smile on his face, Kay watched as Amber, clearly the friend of everyone in the tavern, slowly made her way up the stairs at the back.

_Someone pulled him into a dark corner. He could feel her fingers wrapped around his wrist, her laughter against his neck and a swell of affection in his heart but when he turned to get a look at her, she disappeared. Then, he was chasing a deer through a dense forest, someone else by his side complaining non-stop about the futility of it all and suggesting a break instead. He might have even called him a prat. But again, any attempt to look at his companion made them disappear into the darkness._

He awoke to people mumbling outside his door. Instinctively, he bolted up, grabbed his sword and waited, adrenaline surging through his veins.

“Are you awake yet?”

It was Amber. His fingers relaxed and he sucked in a deep breath, calming his racing heart. “I’ll be down soon,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep. Perched at the edge of his bed, he stretched, patted down his hair then opened the door to a smiling Amber.

“Morning!”

“Hey Amber.” Absently, he ruffled her hair, causing her to duck, squeal and dash into his room.

Legs swinging, she sat on his bed. “You look funny in Dad’s clothes. Mum says he used to carry me on his shoulders.”

“What happened to him?” He stopped at the door, curiosity getting the better of him. He regretted the question when Amber’s smile faded.

“The dawn raiders got him. He went to help the village then he didn’t come back.” Her smile returned. “Mum says you need to clean out the barn. She also said that you sleep too much.” That Kay was about to get into trouble with the nice tavern owner seemed to make Amber far too happy. He narrowed his eyes at her then left the room without her.

Quickly, she scampered next to him. “Are you really a pirate? Do you have a boat? Will you bring me to the outer forest?”

Still groggy, he smiled wanly at her and made his way to the shared sink just outside his room. The feel of cold water on his face woke him fully up and he walked down the creaky steps with Amber who kept up a constant chatter.

“Ah, how was your night?” Muriel glanced up from behind the counter. “Amber, go collect water.”

“Not too bad. Sorry I woke late.”

“No problem. I’d be exhausted too if I’d hit my head, lost my memory then had to trek through the forest.” A mug was slid in front of him. “Have some milk. Then I’ll bring you out to the barn and you can start moving the things out.”

It was hard labour and the sun blazed down but Kay enjoyed the mind-numbing repetition of the job. Muriel came out occasionally, claiming to check that he was alright but Kay suspected it was more to check that he hadn’t taken her odd assortment of damaged furniture and ran.

As he heaved a broken table out of the barn, he scowled at a smirking Muriel, casually leaning against the barn.

“You could help,” he shouted jokingly.

“I could but then I’d be deprived of watching you do it. Also, I believe you get free food and board in exchange?”

Kay shook his head, grinning as he made the walk back to the barn to grab another table. “Why do you keep all these anyway? With so much damaged furniture, your tavern must see a brawl every week.”

“That’s the next part of your job. Turning them all into firewood.”

“Right.”

Muriel lingered, her eyes watching him closely as he carried two broken chairs out of the barn. “So, you don’t remember anything about your life?”

“No and I do wish you’ll keep that quiet. Never know who you can trust.”

“You can always trust a homely tavern owner.”

Kay laughed. “Of course.” Then softer, he asked, “you’ve never seen the symbols on my sword before?”

“No. Pete, the blacksmith, came down to get some supplies and I asked him. He’s never seen anything like it before.” Her eyes narrowed. “I hope it isn’t some druid symbols.”

“Me too,” he replied unthinkingly. That was pointless then. Kay had hoped the symbols were clues to his past but perhaps they were simply decorative.

“Stop brooding and get on with it,” laughed Muriel, slapping him on the back, before she went back into the tavern.

* * *

_Warm fingers gently applied a foul smelling ointment to the gash along his chest. He couldn’t make out the words but she was speaking to him, her voice full of worry and concern. When her fingers trailed over his wound, he shuddered, not from the pain that radiated from his chest, but from something deeper, something close to desire. Then she was bandaging him, her dark curls brushing against his nose as she bent over his chest. He willed her to lift her head, desperate to know who she was._

But like every other dream he had, it faded before he could see her face, and he opened his eyes, staring up at the stained ceiling. A glance out of the window told him that the sun would be rising soon and it was his turn to milk the cows. With a quiet groan, he pushed himself out of bed. It had been two weeks since he found himself in the forest and he was still living in the spare room in the tavern but earned his keep by performing various menial jobs in the nearby village and at the tavern.

He was tugging on a shirt when he heard the familiar, impatient banging on his door. Smiling to himself, he pulled open the door. As he expected, Amber tumbled into his room and flung herself on his bed. Even before he could say anything, she was talking. He nodded and made noises at the appropriate places then shooed her out of his room.

“Mum says you’re going to the village to milk cows. Can I come?”

He eyed her suspiciously, used to her conniving ways. “Don’t you have chores to do?” When she failed to reply, Kay knew he was right. “Do your chores and when I get back this evening, maybe we can go for a swim in the lake, if the sun is still up.”

At the bottom of the stairs, Muriel passed him a small packet and he smiled thankfully. She merely shook her head, dismissing his thanks like she did every morning. Muriel, busy hauling up mead from the basement yelled out a hearty goodbye as Kay walked out the door of the tavern.

“Are you sure I can’t come with you?”

“Amber,” he said warningly, biting down on the smile that threatened to break through.

She didn’t hold back her grin. “I was just trying my luck.” Then she scampered back into the tavern, without a look back.

The walk to the village was a short one but Kay made the most of it. In the tavern, if it wasn’t Amber constantly demanding his attention, it was Muriel regaling him with stories of the various patrons, none of whom seem to recognise him from anywhere despite their wide travels. Here, as he walked along the well-trodden path, he was able to think. It was during one of these walks between the tavern and the village that he came to the tentative conclusion that he must be a mercenary of some sort. He was more than competent with a sword, owned two heavy gold rings, and his sword was of very good quality. Yet he bore no sigils of any sort which suggested that he didn’t belong to any kingdom.

One of the gold rings was very clearly a wedding ring and he wondered about his wife. Was she at home, wherever that was, worrying about him? Did she think him dead? Was she coping without him? Did they have children? Each question tore at his heart a little more. Two weeks here was long enough and as much as he had grown fond of Amber, he needed to move on, find out more about himself. Only, at this point, with nothing to go on, he suspected that it was going to be a wild goose chase.

His mind was on his mysterious wife, worrying, when he heard raised, urgent voices from the village. Quiet and idyllic was the usual state of the village, not this. Edging along a farmhouse, he surveyed the main village. A rag tag group of men had rounded up the villagers in the main square while others were clearly looting the place. But what struck him was how the villagers were simply handing over their supplies to the men.

“Are you sure that’s all?” snapped a burly man, brandishing his sword at the village leader, Ethel. “Your crop seems lower than usual.”

Ethel looked unflinchingly at the man. “That’s all. We agreed to a 80-20 split.”

“I changed my mind. 90-10 and we’ll not burn your fields.”

“No.”

Kay could see the tension in the people in the main square. These were the same people who had taken him in, treated him as family even as evasive as he was with his past. He had to do something. One hand curled around the hilt of his sword, he stepped out of his hiding place.

“What’s happening?”

Ethel’s shock and disapproval were clearly written on her face. “Nothing is happening. These men were just leaving,” she bit out, her eyes warning him to keep out.

“Well, who do we have here? Don’t believe we’ve seen you around.” The burly man, clearly the leader of the motley bunch, swaggered towards him, sword drawn.

“Leave him alone,” said Ethel but the man merely pushed her away.

Then before Kay knew it, the sword was at his throat. “I’d suggest that in future, you leave negotiations up to me and this lady here. Wouldn’t want to scar that pretty face of yours.”

“The name’s Kay,” he said as calmly as he could. “And I’m going to ask you to put your sword away.”

The burly man laughed, showing his yellowed teeth, “Make me.”

All it took was a quick flick of his wrist, a slight feint and their roles were reversed, the man’s sword under Kay’s foot as he pressed his own sword against the man’s throat. “Fine,” said Kay smugly. It was a risky decision and even without lifting his eyes from the burly man, Kay could sense the other bandits closing in on him. “Come any closer and I’ll kill him,” he said coldly.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw the movement stop.

Kay pressed the sword against the leader’s throat, watching as a line of blood formed. Then with a snarl, he pulled it away. “Take your men and leave. If you come back, know that I will not hesitate to kill you.” Then he smirked. “And don’t think I can’t take on your whole group alone.” When the leader didn’t move, Kay raised his voice. “Leave!”

Standing with the rest of the villagers, Kay watched as the group grabbed their loot and dashed into the forest.

“Thank you,” said Ethel. “We should have at least another week’s peace before they come again.”

“Have they been here before?”

“Oh yes,” said Rory, a young man. “We call them the dawn raiders because they always come early in the morning. They take all we can afford to give up in exchange for not harming us.”

“And you let them?”

“Of course we let them. Do you think any of us can fight like you?” said Ethel, frowning at him. “We do what we can to survive and giving up part of our crop ensures we aren’t slaughtered.”

Anger gripped him. “You are under the protection of Camelot. Why haven’t they done anything?”

“We are far from Camelot.”

Kay huffed. “That doesn’t mean your village shouldn’t matter. Every village should matter to a king -”

“Queen. Our king is dead,” pipped up Rory.

“ - to a queen. Someone needs to tell them about this.”

“I wish it was that easy. We can’t afford to have anyone ride out to Camelot. If we’re lucky, the regular knight patrol will come by in a few weeks.”

Kay frowned, his displeasure at the situation clear as day on his face. “I’ll ride out to Camelot,” he finally said. “All I need is a horse.” The moment the words left him, he realised what a good idea it was - Camelot, according to Muriel, was the largest kingdom in all of Albion. Surely someone there would recognise him.

Murmurs broke out among the gathered villagers. “We would be indebted to you if you went,” said Ethel finally. “But it’s a two day ride and not an easy one.”

He smiled, attempting to display a confidence he didn’t necessarily have. But if he was a mercenary, and a successful one at that, seeing that he was still alive and wealthy enough to wear gold rings, a two day travel to Camelot should be a breeze for him. “I’ve survived worse.”

“Thank you,” said Ethel and the faith and pride in the eyes of the rest of the villagers made Kay realise he couldn’t possibility let them down now.

* * *

The cool water lapped against his back, soothing out the aches in his shoulders. He watched with mild amusement as Amber splashed around in the shallow part of the lake. Her blatant enjoyment of the lake made up for the vague sense of discomfort and dread he felt in it, a feeling that was exacerbated by the memories he could feel trying to burst out of the locked box of his mind without any success, no matter how hard he tried.

“Mum says you’re going away for a few days.” Amber splashed her way next to him. “Where are you going?”

“Camelot.”

Her eyes widened at that. “Can I go too? There’s a pretty castle there and everyone says the Queen is beautiful. I want to meet her. Maybe she’ll make me a princess and then I’ll get a horse and -”

“No, you can’t go.”

“Is it dangerous?”

Kay nodded.

Amber let out a loud sigh. “Everything is dangerous. Will you bring the Queen a present from me? Mum says she’s sad because the King died.”

“Of course. What are you going to give her?”

“I don’t know. What do you think a Queen would like?” Amber twirled in the water. “Do you think she’ll want some wild flowers? I could pick some of the yellow and purple ones that grow near the forest.”

“I’m sure she’ll love anything you give her.”

“Ok! Come, I want to go over there.” Pointing at the deeper end of the lake, Amber grabbed his arm and pulled him with her. “They say Queen Guinevere used to be ordinary like me, but the King fell in love with her and made her Queen. Isn’t that nice?”

He stilled. Guinevere. The name tugged at his heart and something stirred in his memory.

“Kay! Are you listening?”

He looked down at Amber and smiled. “Of course Amber.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

Startled by her sudden change in mood, he blinked. The slight pout and the anguish in her face almost made him want to tell her he wouldn’t go but if he went to Camelot, he might find his family or at least more about his past. “I’ll come back,” he said but there was no sincerity behind his words.

Amber bit her lip. “My dad said he’d come back but he didn’t.”

Kay simply hugged Amber tightly.

Later, as he held the hand of a slightly more cheerful Amber while walking back to the tavern, Kay let his thoughts wander to the name Guinevere again. Was he a loyal subject of hers? Or did someone important to him just happen to share the same name as the Queen of Camelot? What was this Queen like?

The latter he posed to Muriel at dinner.

“I’ve never met her myself but some of the merchants who come here say she’s warm and kind. She was a servant before and now she’s Queen. Without the King by her side, people wonder if she can maintain the peace that the King died for.”

“She’s not a good Queen?” Kay wasn’t sure why but that thought annoyed him.

Muriel shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. But she was a servant before. And -” Brom’s voice dropped and Kay had to lean towards her to pick up the rest of the sentence. “I’ve heard rumours recently that the King’s manservant is back and he’s magic. The Queen hasn’t said anything but people claim she wants to make magic legal again.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. After all the damage and destruction magic has brought to this land, she wants to make it legal. King Arthur would turn in his grave.”

The feeling of discomfort hit him again, but he ignored it. Instead, he turned the subject away from the Queen, enquiring instead of the best way to get to Camelot.

“I know you’re a brilliant swordsman but you best be on your guard. The road to Camelot can be perilous and there are still remnants of Morgana’s army around. With some luck, you’ll bump into the Camelot knights on your way and you won’t have to make the trip all the way to Camelot.” Muriel pushed a mug of mead towards him. “Amber is going to miss having you around. Told you not to entertain her so.”

Kay smiled. “What about you, Muriel?”

“Nah,” she chortled. “Why would I miss the bum who’s been sponging off me?”

“I chopped all that damaged furniture into wood for you.”

Muriel rolled her eyes and picked up some dirty mugs from the counter, depositing them into the sink.

“I stopped that fight between Greg and Johnson. Repaired the roof. Even did your washing up last night.”

Tossing a dirty rag at him, Muriel shook her head. “What are you trying to do Kay? You know you’ve become like family here. Now go away before I really get sad at you getting yourself killed on the way to Camelot.”

“Ah Muriel,” Kay laughed. “You know my sword skills are better than any you’ve seen before. It’s not going to be easy to kill me.”

“Kay,” she said seriously. “I hope you find what you’re looking for in Camelot.”

“Me too.”

Muriel’s words must have been the bringer of luck because the next day, just as Kay returned from the village, four knights of Camelot dismounted and strode into the tavern. Kay watched them enter, heads held high as their armours glinted in the sun and their bright red cloaks fluttered behind them. It looked like he didn’t have to make that trip to Camelot after all. Or perhaps he would go with them.

Pushing open the tavern door in their wake, he walked in. There was a muttering of greetings from the tavern’s usual patrons but Kay’s attention were on the knights at the bar.

“Ah,” boomed Muriel in her usual, cheerful manner. “And this is Kay. He was just about to ride off to Camelot tomorrow but now that you all are here, he doesn’t have to. More’s the pity.”

Kay ignored her jibe, turning to greet the knights.

“The journey is a difficult one! Lucky him,” said one knight, just as he turned back to look at Kay.

Then all four knights were staring at him in utter silence.

The dark skinned knight stepped forward, eyes narrowed, hand on his sword. “Your name is Kay?”

“Do you know me?” He straightened, his hand drifting to his sword.

The knight simply grunted, then walked around him, peering curiously. “Has anyone told you that you look a lot like our late King?”

Kay had expected to be told he was a knight or even a wanted bandit. He hadn’t expected to be told that he looked like the late King.

Another knight spoke, a smile on his face. “Well, perhaps you’re a wee bit uglier than he was.” He slapped Kay on the back. “Don’t look so shocked. You do look a lot like him. Maybe you’re his missing brother.” He turned to the rest of the knights. “Uther seemed to have lots of unacknowledged kids.”

“It was just Morgana,” said the dark skinned knight, clearly the leader of the group, disapproval in his tone. “I’m Rowan and these are my men, Jacob, Asher and Lief. They shouldn’t be gossiping about the royals. Come,” Rowan slung an arm around Kay’s shoulder, “join us for a drink.”

The knights joked and laughed as the drinks kept coming. It was a rare night of rest for them and Kay found himself reluctant to disrupt their merriment with news about the village. Tomorrow, before they set off, he would tell them.

Asher, swinging a half full tankard of mead around, leaned towards him. “Has no one ever told you you look like Arthur? Because you could have milked it for lots of things. Free food, free mead -”

“Asher, you are crook underneath all that armour!” Rowan snapped.

“I was just saying,” slurred Asher. “I mean, all dressed up, I’d think he was Arthur himself. Of course Arthur was a lot more full of himself, cocky. You don’t happen to have a magical sidekick do you?”

“Merlin will turn you into a frog if he hears you calling him a magical sidekick,” muttered Lief. “He’s a good man so I don’t know why everyone is acting like he’s suddenly evil because he has magic.”

Rowan smiled wryly. “Then you’re a more open-minded man than many. What do you think Kay? About magic.”

“I don’t know,” he said hesitantly, which was the truth. He had no idea what he thought of magic. The people in this area seemed suspicious of it, uneasy that the Queen had, after years of being banned, allowed it to be used freely and while he understood their distrust, having heard stories of Morgana and her evil breathen, he couldn’t help but wonder if magic was any different from a sword - that it wasn’t inherently evil but at the mercy of the person who wielded it. “It’s not something I’ve thought of much.”

“I think,” said Asher, “that magic corrupts. It’s evil and when you use it, it slowly darkens your heart. Then you end up like Morgana.”

“Then explain Merlin,” retorted Lief. “I’ve heard Sir Leon refer to him as the most powerful warlock ever and he’s not evil.”

Asher was having none of that and the two knights started bickering, a rehash of an argument they’ve had more than once Kay suspected. Jacob, the silent knight, shook his head and downed another gulp of mead. It was then he noticed Rowan looking at his rings.

“Nice rings. They look valuable.” His voice was light but Kay could see a hint of suspicion in Rowan’s eyes.

Panic started to build in him. Were these rings stolen? As calmly as he could, he thanked Rowan, who still watched him carefully.

“So, what’s your story?”

“My story?”

Rowan sat up, the smile on his face never reaching his eyes. “Have you always lived here?”

“No,” Kay replied but offered nothing more.

“Where were you from?”

“Uh, not very far away actually. I was looking for something new. You know how it is - stay in one place for too long and it gets boring.”

Rowan still looked suspicious. “This tavern is something new?”

“Yes.”

“So what is it that -”

Asher slammed down his tankard. “Are you interviewing him for knighthood? Leave him alone. You’re always such a pain Rowan.”

Rowan scowled but took a huge swallow of his mead instead. Thankful, Kay smiled briefly at Asher who merely shrugged in response. Still uncomfortable with Rowan’s scrutiny, Kay made some excuses and left the company of the knights.

Early the next morning, Kay found Rowan with the horses.

“Hey,” Kay said as he walked into the stables. “I need to tell you something.”

Rowan dropped the reins, leaned against the wall and gestured for Kay to continue.

“We’ll go by the village today then send a report back to the Queen. She’s likely to increase the number of patrols out here. Maybe establish an outpost.”

“That would be good,” he replied. “I thought I could go to Camelot with you.”

“Getting bored with the taven already? If you care about the village, then I suggest you stay till the Queen arranges something. The dawn raiders might strike again and from what I hear, you are capable of seeing them off.”

“It’s a four day ride to Camelot. The dawn raiders won’t return so soon.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “And what if they do? You would leave these people to fend for themselves?”

“You should get one of your knights to stay. Isn’t that your duty? To protect the lands of Camelot?”

Rowan’s lips tightened and his eyes grew hard. “I don’t think you are in a position to tell us what to do. But you’re welcome to ride with us if you wish.” Then he picked up the reins again, a signal that the conversation was over.

Asher sauntered into the stables. “You’re coming with us? Brilliant. We could have so much fun pretending you’re the ghost of the king.”

“Stop talking nonsense Ash,” snapped Rowan.

Raising his arms, Asher backed off, moving to his horse to saddle her up.

Kay glanced out of the stables and watched as Amber walked into the chicken coop to feed the chickens. Beside her stood Muriel going on about something. In the distance, smoke from the village blacksmith could be seen. He closed his eyes.

“It’s alright. Perhaps I’ll visit Camelot another time.”

Kay saw the knights off, Amber clinging to his hand by his side, watching as they deftly readied their horses. Lief, Ascher and Jacob shook his hand, bidding him farewell. Then Rowan approached him, hand out, which Arthur took. Rowan’s grip was firm and he didn’t let go. Leaning closer, Rowan said quietly, “you are the splitting image of the King and the band you wear looks a lot like the wedding band Queen Guinevere wears.”

“How interesting,” he replied as nonchalantly as possible, hoping fervently that he hadn’t somehow robbed the King of Camelot.

“Hmmm, very interesting indeed.” Before Rowan could say anything else, Lief yelled at him to hurry up. WIthin minutes, the knights were little more than clouds of dust.

Amber nudged him. “Now you don’t have to go to Camelot.”

Kay nodded absently, his mind still mulling over Rowan’s words. Once the knights from Camelot arrived to look after the village, he would have to make a trip there himself.

* * *

Kay swiped one hand across his forehead, wiping away the sweat that beaded there as he looked out on the village. Of all the odd jobs he did for the village, helping the blacksmith was the most tedious. But they had taken him in as if he was family, fed him and took care of him so it seemed churlish to complain. Still, despite the blacksmith’s detailed instructions which made his eyes glaze over, he was still having difficulty shaping the sword.

He was still pounding against the hot metal when he heard the commotion. There wasn’t any sense of urgency so it was unlikely to be the dawn raiders. He grabbed it as an excuse to stop his work and peek out of the forge. A small group had gathered around two figures, one a male, the other shrouded in a long, green cloak. Just visitors then, possibly passing merchants. Sighing, he went back to his work.

“You’re holding the hammer wrongly.”

He looked up into brown eyes. For a moment he thought he saw tears in them but the lady standing in front him blinked and her eyes were dry.

“Are you a blacksmith?” he asked politely. He studied her, the way her dark curls framed her delicate face, the way her eyes stared guilelessly at him, the way her hand held her stomach and desire, strong and almost painful, shot through him. “Because as you can tell, I’m not.”

A smile appeared on her face. “I can tell.” Her voice trembled and he wondered if she was nervous around him. And if so, why would she approach him? Before he could ask, she stepped closer to him, her light lavender scent drifting to his nose, causing his groin to tighten. “Here. I’ll show you.”

His concentration was shot the moment she curled her long fingers around his wrist. She continued to talk, demonstrating how to hammer the metal but all he could focus on was the heat her touch left behind and the brush of her curls against his arm.

Eventually she stopped and took a step back. Her chest heaved, as if she was as affected by his nearness as he was hers. Or perhaps smiting was a tiring endeavour.

“I’m Kay,” he rasped, not knowing what else to say as he fought the urge to touch her, to pull her against him.

She smiled sadly. “I’m Gwen. And this,” she turned and gestured to the skinny man who had been hovering some distance away, “is Merlin.”

He nodded to Merlin, then turned his attention back to her. “Gwen. Are you passing through?”

“Something like that. We thought we might stay a while. Rest.” She smiled again but it didn’t reach her eyes, beautiful eyes that were full of sadness. The sudden need to know what made her so sad and to fix it gripped him. She looked at his hands, then to his sword which he kept by his side.

“Is something wrong?”

“No. It’s just that your sword looks like it’s of exquisite quality. Would you mind if I had a look at it?”

“I’m almost done here. You’ll be looking for room at the tavern. Why don’t you wait a little and I’ll walk the two of you over. You can admire my sword then,” he said lightly, wanting to spend more time with her. Perhaps, at the tavern, Amber with her constant good spirits and chatter would make Gwen smile with more happiness.

The three of them walked slowly along the path to the tavern. Kay could feel Merlin’s eyes on him every step of the way while Gwen, in contrast, refused to look at him. It was an exercise in awkwardness and he almost regretted the offer.

“Have you lived here long?” Merlin asked. “I come from Ealdor, a small village some two days from here.”

“Not really,” he said, his eyes still on Gwen who was walking slightly ahead. “Is Gwen from Ealdor too?”

“No, she’s from Camelot.”

“And you two are? You don’t have enough goods to be merchants and neither of you look like you are mercenaries.”

“We’re travellers,” said Merlin vaguely. Kay would have probed more but they reached the tavern and the smell of dinner wafted through the heavy wooden doors, making his stomach growl. Just as he was about to push open the doors, Amber came dashing out from the side of the tavern.

“Kay!” she yelled as she flung herself into his arms. Laughing, he caught her, tickled her sides before swinging her around. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed that Gwen’s expression had become almost pained. Her hand once again drifted to her stomach and she looked down. “Are these your friends?”

Gently placing Amber back on the ground, he took her hand. “This is Gwen and this is Merlin. They’re visitors.”

“Hello,” she smiled broadly. He saw Gwen swallow before slowly kneeling down so that she was eye to eye with Amber.

“Hi. What’s your name?”

“Amber. You’re pretty. Are you a princess?”

Merlin laughed. “If she were a princess, we would be accompanied by knights, wouldn’t we?”

“Come Amber. Merlin and Gwen need a room. Why don’t you let your mum know?”

“Ok! Nice to meet you!” Amber dashed off into the tavern but Gwen still knelt on the muddy ground.

Instinctively, he offered her his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, she took it and got up carefully. “Come, let’s go inside.” He didn’t let go of her hand and she didn’t pull away either. He could still feel Merlin’s eyes on him.

He watched as Gwen’s fingers trailed along the flat edge of his blade, lingering at the symbols carved into it. “It’s a good sword. I wish I knew who forged it,” he said, wanting to break the heavy silence between them. Muriel had agreed to let them two rooms and was preparing dinner for all of them. Amber sat on his lap, her usual chatter dampened by the strange atmosphere.

“It is. It’s one of a kind,” Gwen said.

Finally Amber piped up. “When I’m older, Kay is going to teach me how to use his sword.”

“Really?” said Gwen. “I’m sure Kay is a brilliant swordsman. He’ll be a brilliant teacher as well.”

“He is! He taught me how to swim! But I can’t go to the deep part of the lake without him.”

Gwen’s eyes met his and she smiled slightly. “That’s wonderful.”

“It’s no big deal,” he said.

Just then, Merlin returned with food. “What’s no big deal?”

“Amber was just telling me what a good teacher Art - Kay is.”

Merlin said nothing but laid out the plates. “Let’s eat. We have a long night and day ahead of us,” he said brusquely, leaving Kay to wonder again about the sudden mood changes that kept happening.

Dinner was easily the most uncomfortable one he could remember. While Amber and Gwen kept up a constant, if superficial, conversation, Merlin kept darting glances at him. Kay had the strangest feeling that Merlin knew him, yet Merlin said nothing.

Popping the final piece of bread into his mouth was a relief. Amber had finished and was regaling Gwen with a story of her adventures in what she called the dark forest. Kay watched as Gwen listened, smiled and nodded as if Amber was the most interesting story-teller, asking questions when needed and he couldn’t help but smile at the way Amber preened under the attention. His eyes travelled to Gwen’s face, gazing at the pools of brown that held so much sadness that she tried to hide, down to her lips. Her dark curls were tied neatly in a braid and his hands itched to free them, wanting to see how she looked with her curls loose around her face. She was beautiful and he couldn’t help the pull of attraction he felt. He shifted slightly, knocking his hand against the table, and he glanced down at his hand.

Immediately guilt hit him. He likely had a wife somewhere, one he hadn’t had much success in finding. Guilt tugged at him again. Deep inside he knew, after the first few days when he’d practically interrogated every passing merchant, he hadn’t done a lot to discover who he was. There was a vague plan to go to Camelot but there was always reason he couldn’t leave Helb. And the longer he stayed, the more he wondered if it was easier to just start over here rather than chase shadows.

“Come, Amber. Clear the table. It’s almost bedtime.” It wasn’t really but sitting at the table with Merlin and Gwen was making everything too complicated. Amber grumbled but slid off his lap and picked up some of the plates. Kay grabbed the rest, muttering a quick goodbye before disappearing behind the bar where Muriel stood.

“Those two new guests really like you. The female especially. I see the way she looks at you,” teased Muriel as she took the dishes from Kay.

“I like her too!” said Amber.

Laughing Muriel ruffled her hair. “I’ve yet to meet someone you don’t like, Amber.”

* * *

_He could feel her hands tracing the line of his waistband, her tongue playing with his earlobe. She bit it playfully, then groaned when he cupped her bum through her shift. Small kisses were pressed against his jaw as her hands went lower, brushing lightly against his length but never fully touching him._

_“Tease,” he hissed, lips curling into a smile as his eyes closed, submitting to her ministrations._

_Her breath puffed against his cheek when she laughed softly, moving to his throat to press more warm kisses on him. He opened his eyes. Her face was hidden in his neck but he could see her hair._

_Her dark curls._

* * *

He shot up in bed.

The moon winked at him through his window, as if privvy to Kay’s inappropriate dreams and he groaned, well aware that he wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep again, not when he was awashed with need. Need for the woman sleeping in the room next to his. Was she even available? Was he even available? Confused and frustrated, he eased himself quietly out of bed, aware of the thin walls that separated the rooms. By now, he was familiar enough with the corridors to pad out of the tavern in the darkness, in search for some fresh air.

As he turned the corner, he saw her.

Her figure was silhouetted against the moon, her curls, released from their braid, danced in the light night breeze. Yet her postured revealed a sadness deep inside and while the smart thing to do would be to leave her to her thoughts, Kay moved towards her.

He knew the moment she sensed his presence. Tightening her cloak around her, she turned. With the moonlight on her skin, she looked like an ethereal princess. He nodded in greetings and he thought he saw her smile.

“Kay,” she whispered, the word imbued with meaning he couldn’t fathom.

Despite his better judgement, he found himself walking closer to her, stopping only when he was a breath away, her lavender scent surrounding him. She didn’t move away, instead lifting her hand to gently touch his cheek. He trapped her hand against his cheek with his, marvelling at how perfectly her smaller hand fit under his. Her eyes locked with his, those sad brown eyes that made his heart ache.

Then his eyes dropped to her lips.

She licked them.

With a harsh groan, he dipped his head and kissed her. It was brief, gentle and as he pulled away, something settled in his heart, something light, something warm and he couldn’t help the smile that formed.

“Arthur,” she sighed when their contact broke.

Kay took a step back, the warmth he was feeling just moments earlier dissipating. “Arthur?”

Her eyes snapped opened, her hand flying to her mouth as she took a step back.

"Who is Arthur?"

"This - this wasn't how - Merlin -" She stopped and drew in a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have -"

"Who is Arthur?" He asked with more urgency, his hands grasping her upper arms, suddenly convinced that the answer to this question was the key to his past.

She looked at him, her gaze gentle. "You."

The breath he didn't realise he was holding whooshed out of him, a weight lifted off his heart. He was Arthur, possibly the husband of this woman in front of him. He smiled. "I'm Arthur. I didn't know." Then he laughed, suddenly overwhelmed with affection for Gwen and gratitude that something had brought them here to Helb where he was. "I have so many questions!"

But Gwen looked troubled, stepping out of his hold and moving slightly away.

"Gwen," he frowned, uncertain. If he was her husband, shouldn't she be happy to see him? Or perhaps they weren't happily married as he always assumed. Or perhaps she wasn't his wife. Had he been having an affair? The thought made him sick, but who knew what kind of person he was before he lost his memory?

"We have to talk," she said quite seriously, still standing much too far from him. Her brow was furrowed and she bit her lip in nervousness, causing whatever excitement he felt just moments ago to disappear. She didn’t look like she had anything good to tell him. All the fears he had about the type of man he was came rising to the surface.

When she gestured to the rickety wooden bench leaning against the tavern, he took a seat. Silently, Gwen sat down next to him, her hands clutching her cloak, her eyes focused on the darkness in front of her.

“Who am I to you?” he asked when it became clear that she wasn’t about to start the conversation.

Her eyes dropped to her hand and she twisted the gold band around her finger. He knew then, even before she said it.

“Your husband,” he repeated after her, relief flooding him. So he wasn’t fooling around behind his wife’s back. But as the relief ebbed, it only uncovered more questions. Only Gwen didn’t look like she would appreciate being swamped with all his questions. So he asked the one that was bugging him the most. “Were you looking for me?”

A soft sigh escaped her. “Yes. Merlin and I – he’s your best friend – we heard rumours that someone who looked like my husband was living here and so we made the journey here to find out if they were true.”

“So why didn’t you say something earlier?” This was what he couldn’t understand. When they first met, she and Merlin had acted as if they didn’t know him. There was no relief or even joy at seeing him. Unless –

“Because,” she said after a long while, finally lifting her head to look at him, a glimmer of tears in her eyes, “because what do you do when you come face to face with someone you thought had been dead for two months?”

“Dead?”

“Yes. There was a battle and we thought you’d died in it. Merlin – he thought – he said that he’d buried you and – I don’t understand,” she said, ending with a sob. The sound tore through his heart and it seemed perfectly natural to put his arm around her shaking shoulders and pull her close.

Under the blanket of stars, they sat in silence.

* * *

“Why are you lying here?” Amber’s face loomed over his as she kicked some dirt at him.

“I’m thinking,” Arthur muttered, throwing his arm across his eyes.

“Mum said that she heard Gwen and Merlin talking.” She squatted down next to him, her voice dropping to a whisper. “They said you were dead.”

“Obviously I am not dead.” He adored Amber but he wasn’t quite in the mood to humour her at the moment.

She sat herself down. “Maybe you’re a ghost. Danny once told me this story about how his wife died and –“

He moved his arm from his face. “You mean Old Danny? You’re too old to believe what he says.”

“But if you are dead then maybe –“

“I’m not dead.”

“But you could be.”

Arthur sat up and glared down at Amber. “Do dead people do this?” he said before tickling her, smiling when she squealed and kicked out at him. “Hmm? Do they?”

“No! No!” laughed Amber, holding her arms up in the universal signal of surrender. “I’m sorry!”

He let her go, ruffling her hair. When she climbed into his lap, he merely slipped an arm around her waist and held her.

“Did you really forget who you are?”

“Mmm.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was too complicated.”

Arthur could imagine the pout on her face when she replied sulkily. “Everyone always says that.” Then she twisted to look at him. “You won’t forget me, will you?”

“Forget you?”

Amber nodded. “Yes. Mum says you’re Gwen’s husband so you’ll be going to Camelot with her, won’t you?” Arthur rolled his eyes inwardly. Muriel heard far too much and she talked just as much. Amber suddenly brightened. “Maybe I can come with you! And I can meet the Queen and –“

“Shall we go swimming? It’s a lovely morning.” He asked in an attempt to change the subject. Amber’s eyes lit up and she nodded. Jumping out of his lap, she called out the usual taunt before dashing for the lake. As he watched her run off, something ached in him.

* * *

When the knock came, he expected it to be Gwen who he suspected had been avoiding him the whole day. Instead, it was Merlin. He raised one eyebrow, then stepped aside to let his supposedly best friend in.

“Gwen says she told you.”

Arthur laughed at the obvious statement. “Doesn’t half the tavern know this by now? I heard them whisper as I walked through earlier. Although Danny did still call me Kay,” he mused.

Without asking, Merlin plopped himself on the bed. “So.”

Sitting on the only other available space in the small room – a small chair, Arthur looked expectantly at Merlin. He took in the man’s drawn face, the suspicion in his eyes and the flat line of his mouth and he knew. “You think I’m lying.” Arthur said flatly. “That somehow I’m pretending to be this Arthur person.”

“If it helps, I don’t think you’re doing it on purpose.”

Frowning, Arthur stared at Merlin. This was his best friend? This humourless, paranoid person? “Why would I pretend to be Arthur?”

“A lot of people would love to be Arthur,” Merlin said cryptically.

“It’s certainly not because they want you as a best friend.”

Merlin’s lips quirked, almost as if he wanted to smile. “Gwen said we were best friends?”

“She did, although I can’t imagine why.” Arthur leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “So if you think I’m pretending to be Arthur, why are you here?”

“I don’t suppose you’ve spoken to any magic folks recently.”

“No. And why would I? All I’ve heard about them is how destructive they are.”

Emotions scuttled across Merlin’s face but before Arthur could make sense of them, Merlin quickly schooled his face into something more neutral. “That’s a prevailing thought.”

“You don’t think they are destructive?”

Merlin shrugged. “How about strange pools of water? Had any encounters with them?”

“No. Look, I woke up in the forest without my memory. Aside from the fact that I clearly have sword skills and am married, I know nothing else.” Frustration bubbled in him and Arthur dragged a hand through his hair. Merlin was decidedly odd and for some reason, both Gwen and Merlin were being awfully vague about his history even though it was more than obvious that they knew a lot more.

“Mind if I look at your wedding ring?”

“I do mind actually,” he gritted out. “What’s with the questions?”

“I just need to make sure you really are Arthur. Gwen, she can’t lose you twice.” Merlin’s voice cracked slightly. “And neither can I.”

All the anger and frustration drained out of him immediately. Silently he pulled off the rings on his fingers and placed them in Merlin’s open palm. Curiously he watched as Merlin closed his hand around them, and then his eyes. He might have murmured something but Arthur wasn’t sure.

“Here.” Merlin passed the rings back to him. “It would seem that you really are Arthur.”

Trying to lighten the mood, Arthur quipped. “I can’t have been a very good friend if you sound so miserable about it.”

“You were the best friend Arthur.” With those solemn words, Merlin rose from the bed and walked out of the room.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first long fic that I've written in one shot. I fluctuated between hating writing this fic and loving it but I know for sure that this fic would have never been finished without the following people. 
> 
> Firstly, [AGDoren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AGDoren/pseuds/AGDoren) who helped me with the plotting, reading and rereading bits and pieces of my fic and chatting with me to work through all the issues and problems I faced while writing it. You were so patient and helpful and frankly, without your constant support and encouragement, I wouldn't have been able to complete this. Then, my dear [i-canz-kill-dragon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/i_canz_kill_dragon/pseuds/i_canz_kill_dragon) who thoroughly beta-ed my fic at the very last minute and gave me really useful feedback. Any remaining problems in the fic is all mine.
> 
> And a great many thanks to both Jhing and Ancel for cheering me on and believing that I could write something half-decent.
> 
> Lastly, thank you to [SusanMarieR](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanMarieR/pseuds/SusanMarieR) for doing the lovely cover art of this fic despite how waffly I was about it. :)


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